Inquisition: Otherworlder
by rubyhardflames
Summary: With a broken toe and a somewhat broken heart, a sheltered girl finds herself thrust into a world filled with templars and mages, rifts and demons, and a glowing green scar in the palm of her hand. (Modern OC. Slow build longfic w/ worldbuilding. Pairing not evident until Book III.)
1. Book I: The Beginning

**A/N:** So I've been playing DA:I for a while and got the idea to do this with a different version of an OC of mine for another fandom. She's usually a confident world-hopping magician who loves adventure - in a darker "reality", she's nothing more than a powerless girl who only dreams of grandeur and adventure. I'll be introducing her in this fic as a new person entirely, so you need not worry about being too confused. Regardless, I'd be glad to answer any questions and am open to constructive criticism.

 **Should probably add before anyone gets confused that my OC has ethnic origins that will account for a large amount of culture talk in this fic.** It'll all be revealed as the story goes along, but just a heads up.

BioWare owns the Dragon Age franchise and all its characters...

...but all OC's are mine!

* * *

Inquisition: Otherworlder

* * *

A dull, throbbing pain coursed through the back of her head. Her stomach churned in slow, nauseating motions and her neck felt like a weight of lead upon her shoulders. Every limb and rib screamed with a tight, creaking soreness that made her feel a million years old. She was absolutely miserable.

A harsh female voice echoed through her skull, sending sharp pricks of pain throughout its furthermost corners: "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now."

The line of spit coagulating on her tongue threatened to dribble out of her mouth as she heaved a gaping breath to stay the nausea. _Shut up...migraine..._

"The Conclave is destroyed," the voice went on. "Everyone who attended is dead...except for you."

 _Dead...everyone..._ She immediately thought of her dogs; green lights in the backyard; the creak of a door against the wind. Her eyes flared open. _N-no! They can't be!_ Her mouth poised to scream–

Her breath caught when she faced the sharp end of a blade.

A rapid hammering started up in her chest as the realization sank in. With a slow turn of her head, she found herself in a dank stone chamber, surrounded on all sides by these sharp bladepoints.

"I...I..." she stuttered. "Where...am I?"

"The prisons," the voice answered curtly.

Prison! She almost reeled back in shock, so out of place did that word seem – but when she tried to reach out a hand to steady her head, she found her wrists locked in tight iron manacles. "Wha..." Her heart beat faster and her breathing sped up along with it. "What am I – Why am I – Why am I handcuffed? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Explain _this._ " A woman with short, choppy hair took a step forward and roughly grabbed her manacles, yanking them upwards. The rest of her body followed along and she yelped when the side of her left foot flared up in pain.

But that did not compare to what happened in her left hand; first, a flickering heat built up in her palm and spread with a tingling, prickly sensation. A second later, her entire palm erupted with a crackling, electric energy that felt as though it would split her very hand in two. She screamed both in pain and fear and shut her eyes tight against the electricity, dancing in wild neon green hues.

"I can't!" she practically sobbed, and it was a wonder she even remembered to answer the statement levied against her in the first place. "Please, please stop it!" she continued, her voice quivering. "I'm afraid of electricity!"

The harsh woman threw her manacles back down and ignored her plea. "What do you mean, you can't?"

"I don't – I don't know what it is! Please, make it stop–"

"You're lying!"

"No," and she was truly sobbing this time. "I swear, I'm not..."

The angry woman made a tight noise in her mouth and the girl braced herself for a strike or whatever else was coming, just as long as it wasn't that scary flare of electricity again. Anything but that.

"We need her, Cassandra," a lighter voice then cut through the chaos. It was calm, assertive, and soothingly mellifluous. The girl opened her eyes a crack to chance a look at its owner. The woman she saw wore a purple hood over her head, but her delicate face and coppery hair were visible beneath the cowl. The woman looked down upon her and asked her, gently, "Do you remember what happened? How all this began?"

 _Remember...what happened..._ Her eyes flitted this way and that as she, in a panic, realized that she couldn't. Her thoughts were a confusing blur and the pain in her head was not helping.

"Calm down," the hooded woman instructed her. "Take a deep breath and try to think: what was the last thing you remember doing?"

The girl shut her eyes and followed the hooded woman's advice. Deep breath. In, out. Think. The last thing she remembered doing. A throb of pain in her head made her wince and the nausea rose into her throat. She forced it back down with a gulp of air and took another deep breath. In, out. She coughed at the end of the second exhalation and that simple cough was enough to make her limbs shake with weariness. She tried not to think about that. She tried to think, instead, of the last thing she remembered...

* * *

Sadness. Sadness was the first thing that came to mind. That soul-crushing, heart-wrenching, gut-twisting grief while watching Bilbo's round eyes stare at hers through the window of his new family's car as it receded down the driveway and off to Tennessee. She'd been sad when his other eight littermates found their new homes, but he had been the lovable runt who stayed with them the longest; he had been the one closest to her, the one she resuscitated after being accidentally suffocated by his mother...he was _special_.

Wait, that was too far back. That was...that was yesterday. Also the same day she'd stubbed and broke her pinkie toe, dammit. No, no, it was earlier _tonight_ when all this craziness started. She remembered because that was when she came home from the hospital for X-rays after finally acknowledging something was wrong. That night, she'd slipped into bed with the pain of a broken toe in her left foot and the dull ache of longing in her heart.

She had been crying herself to sleep. Yes, it was coming back to her now. Laden with tears, her eyelids had grown heavy as she hugged her cylindrical body pillow tight. She'd been determined to have a good night's sleep after exhausting her pent-up emotions, knowing she had to savor the moment as much as she could before the next trouble hit her. Funny, she never expected it to be waking up in a dark stone dungeon...

And then the dogs had started barking. Her eyes flew wide open, chill dread seeping into her chest. She remembered thinking the neighbors would get upset and complain, which her parents would not take lightly. That train of thought soon devolved into worry of a possible escapade from the fence. Those were the two biggest reasons why she objected to making them outside dogs in the first place, but she was always chastised for voicing her worries instead of complacently agreeing.

She listened for snores from the direction of the master bedroom before daring to slip out of bed. With a careful movement, she gently slipped the injured foot into an orthopaedic shoe and strapped it on. Her drowsy gaze had been fixated while she worked on the white gauze wrapping her pinkie and ring toe together, a ghostly white line in the darkness. Then she rose and hobbled down the hallway, exerting extra effort to make the shoe's sole as silent as her bare foot.

Arriving at the head of the stairs, she reached a tentative hand for the rail and made her slow descent. She turned into a little corridor after reaching the bottom and entered the kitchen. She picked her way through the darkness, rounded the island and counter, and came to a windowed door in a corner of the dining area. She remembered flicking the switch next to the door on and off and watching as a bright golden light illuminated the deck before blinking out. The dogs weren't there, but the barking echoed from their kennels below.

Thus encouraged, she opened the door and stepped outside. The barking immediately assaulted her ears in full clarity as soft moonlight shone down on her from above. What struck her as strange was that it seemed green at the edges, but she dismissed it as a trick of the eyes. Beyond that, everything seemed fine. The warm summer night was gentle and soothing; frogs croaked in the creek that cut through the yard, crickets chirped merrily in the undergrowth, and the breeze sighed contentedly between the leafy treetops. The only thing out of place were the jarring voices of dogs.

 _Oh, dogs_ – _they'll bark at anything!_ She strained against the railing and scanned the dark ground below, but saw nothing of interest. Meanwhile, the barks were growing louder. She pushed off the railing and slowly made her way across to the deck stairs to check it out anyway. But when she went down the first step, she finally saw what might have provoked them. It was a dim, pulsing green ball hovering midair...

A sound like splintering stone and crackling energy vibrated through the air. With one great burst of green light, she was suddenly thrown onto her back as though pushed by a powerful gust of wind. Her head knocked against the wood, rattling her teeth and jumbling her brain. Her eyes shut upon impact, and when she opened them again, the entire yard was glowing with bright green light – a bright green light that cut through the air like a luminescent scar.

She scrambled to her feet as fast as she could and clung to the railing for support. Her eyes watered as she directly faced this scar, shining so brightly it was almost like staring into the sun. She turned away and painful spots flashed in her eyes. The barking was now at a fierce staccato pace.

 _What is_ _that thing!?_ she thought bewilderingly.

She recomposed herself and went down the stairs. The scar hung above her like a garish crescent moon, twisting and writhing in pulsing movements that threw dancing shadows against everything its light touched. When she reached the ground, the two Akitas stopped barking momentarily to run up to her, pushing their noses into her abdomen as if to tattle on this strange _thing_ that had interrupted their sleep. She gave them cursory head pats and continued to look up at the phenomena, or at least the edges where the light was less intense, wondering what complex law of science could explain its existence.

An end of the scar bulged in its twist and then suddenly exploded, as if unable to contain an influx of whatever it was trying to contain; she shut her eyes again, remembering the uncomfortable light the first time it had done so, and when she looked back, the scar was larger than before, reaching closer to the ground and looking more like a giant smear of paint than a scar.

The dogs dispersed and took up their barking again, but were quickly silenced when a ragged branch of light burst out and caught one – the female – by the paw.

"No! Cixi!" she screamed. She stepped forward, stubbed her orthopaedic shoe against a pebble, and fell unceremoniously into the dirt; the injured toe screamed with sharp pain. Gritting her teeth, she shoved herself back up and hobbled-ran towards the dog. The light, coiled around the joint of the paw, began to drag the Akita with such a force that the other paws, digging into the ground, made deep dragging marks in the dirt.

With a launch of her good foot, she fell upon the trapped dog and held it tightly in her arms. With her weight against Cixi's, she was able to stop the light's pull, but only momentarily.

Cixi whimpered, big pleading eyes boring into hers.

"Shh, I know, girl," she said soothingly. "I'm here. Don't be afraid." Biting down on her lower lip, she pushed even harder against the strange gravity of the green light. Slowly but surely, they slipped out of its grasp. "Just a little more, girl. There, that's a good girl." These reassurances were for her as much as they were for Cixi. She needed her head clear of emotions, or she might panic and lose her grip.

After what seemed like an eternity, both dog and human fell out from the light's hold. Cixi ran under the deck stairs where her male counterpart stood waiting, his tail between his legs. Their human lay panting on the dusty ground, the incredulity of what just happened weakening her knees to jelly.

"Stay," she commanded them. "Stay there, okay? Don't..."

Then she heard the creak of a door above her followed by a rush of wind. _I didn't close the door properly_ , she realized. A better solution unfolded before her eyes. _I could get them inside, where it's safer._ "Up," she commanded, using the word they associated with hopping into a car, and the dogs' ears perked at her voice. "Come on, up! Go up!"

When they didn't do anything, she crawled on all fours towards the wooden deck steps and beat her hand on the bottom step. "Come on, go up!"

Without a moment's notice, the two canines leapt onto the steps and ran until they reached the deck. But once there, they stopped, too obedient to enter the house without express permission. She raised herself onto her feet again and yelled out in her native language, "Đi vô! Đi vô nhà!" _Go, go into the house!_

Regardless of whether they still remembered that command after so long of being unable to come inside, she heard their paws shuffling against the kitchen floor a moment later and breathed a sigh of relief. Now it was her turn. She checked her foot to make sure it was okay and turned one last time to look warily at the strange light in the air.

 _Next thing on my list: calling the cops._

She turned back around and began to mount the first step. But before she could put her other foot on it, the light flared intensely from behind her and another crack and crumble of splintering stone vibrated against her back. Perhaps she shouldn't have, but she immediately whirled around to see what had happened. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

The light had expanded again, becoming so big that she could easily wrap herself in it with room to spare. Coiling verdant tendrils snatched out at the surroundings, sucking in twigs and pebbles and whatever else fell prey to the light's touch. She felt a tingle of warmth snake around her ankle and looked down to see a ghastly green tendril tightening its grip on her.

 _What the-_

She had not the chance to finish that thought when she was yanked off her feet. Her hands clawed out at the ground, the dirt, the stones, anything she could get ahold of to save herself! But nothing was firm enough and she was only dragged faster and faster towards the strange green abomination. With a sickening lurch, she was hung upside-down from the ankle, and then the warm summer night disappeared around her in a bright flare of green.

A moment of weightlessness followed, dark and somber like that of deep sleep. If anything happened in that moment, she couldn't remember it. Then she received a rude awakening as she was deposited onto a hard, stony ground.

With a groan, she turned herself to the side and slowly sat up. Her eyes blinked haltingly as they attempted to adjust to her new surroundings. At first, she thought she had been dropped in the same spot in the backyard. She quickly realized as she took in the sickly green mist that something else entirely had happened.

She attempted to stand. "Ow," she hissed, and clutched at her left foot. She gave it a moment before rising again, this time more slowly.

 _Where am I?_ she wondered. Nothing but green mist swirled about her, obscuring her vision and teasing her with vague rolling shapes that threatened to come alive, but dissipated before they could do so. Besides the dim light of the mist, everything else was dark. She pursed her lips and took a step forward. The distant sound of a falling rock echoed from ahead and she tensed, wondering if it signaled the presence someone – or something – else.

"Hello?" she called out timidly. "Is...is anyone there?"

For a moment, everything was quiet. Then she heard a scattering of smaller rocks and a steady one-two beat of jogging footsteps. She stood stock-still, trying to gauge whether the sounds were heading for her or simply veering around her.

A distant shape soon became visible through the mist. She watched it carefully a first, thinking it to be an optical illusion. But when the shape continued to hold and traced itself into a man's profile, she knew it was no trick.

Should she call out to him? Was he coming to rescue her? These questions swirled in her mind as tumultuously as the mist before her, all the while the figure was drawing closer and closer. She gathered her courage and took small steps in his direction.

"Hello? Sir?" she called out again.

She could hear his breath now, huffs and puffs of air that came in rhythm with his steps. If he heard her, he did nothing to show it.

"Sir?" she said louder.

Again, he didn't respond. Things were quiet again, save for his breathing and running. She waited a while longer, hoping he would come close enough for her to call out again. But she waited too long and he suddenly burst through the mist, colliding into her. She yelped in surprise and stumbled back a step.

The man drew back and stared at her in shock, his bright blue eyes widening as though he'd just seen a ghost. His mouth made small stuttering noises, but they were nothing comprehensible. He shook himself a second later and resumed running, leaving her behind in the mysterious mists.

"Wait!" she cried. "Where are you going?"

But he never replied. His jog had also accelerated into a full-on run.

Her heart raced as she wondered why he looked so fearful, and why he had been jogging in the first place. He also seemed dressed for the Renaissance Fair, but that was of little consequence in such a strange and eerie place as this.

When the man's footsteps became nothing more than faint echoes, a new sound took up the emptiness. She listened harder and heard what sounded like the scuttling of tiny feet. Not too long after, a big mass of shadow began moving towards her. She drew back a step, unsure of what to make of it. And then she screamed when the first of the shadows came within sight, the light of the mists reflecting off its many beady eyes.

 _Giant spiders!_

She turned tail and fled, going as fast as her injured foot would allow. First the green light, then the mist and the spiders; what was happening to her? How was it even possible? She screamed in fear again as a furry leg brush against her calf, and quickened her pace. She refused to look back, for fear of seeing the creatures too close for comfort.

And then she began to tire. A sense of doom overcame her and she knew she would fall prey to these giant spiders within minutes. She cursed herself for having a broken toe at such an inopportune moment and prepared to sink down on her knees so the creatures could take her. Whatever was going to come, she hoped it would come swiftly.

"Here!" a booming voice then called out, and she looked up to see where it had come from.

A woman, shining with a bright white light, stood like a beacon at the top of a stone staircase. She wore a great rectangular headdress and had her hand extended towards the girl–

* * *

"So you saw a man and a woman?" the hooded woman interrupted her.

The girl nodded. "The man was gone, and the woman reached out to me...I ran up to her as fast as I could, but then..." She blinked, frowning at the floor as if trying to read the answer from there. "That's all I can remember."

Cassandra, the one with the choppy hair, turned to the hooded woman with an exasperated sigh. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift."

Leliana paused, giving the girl one last scrutinizing look before nodding at Cassandra and exiting through a door. Another burst of pain throbbed in her head as Cassandra bent down to fiddle with the manacles, the chains clanking against one another in an irritating metallic cacophony. When she was done, the girl's wrists were free to move.

Cassandra grabbed her by the arm and hefted her up. Her feet were stable, albeit a little shaky. The short haired woman aimed a suspicious eye at the orthopaedic shoe, though, and pointed at it. "What is that?"

"It's for my toe," the girl explained. "I...broke it."

Cassandra gave a _tsk_ and bent down again to examine the funny-looking shoe. "Which toe?"

"The – the little one."

"Bandages," Cassandra commanded to the guards in the room. "I also need boots and some clothing."

"Yes, Lady Cassandra."

A short moment later, the items arrived and Cassandra ordered her to take off the orthopaedic shoe. The girl did so hesitantly, wondering what this gruff woman was going to do to her. When the shoe's straps were undone and the left foot was free, Cassandra began to tightly bandage the toes.

The girl winced as the gauze cinched against her pinky toe. "Ow! Please, not so tight!"

But Cassandra ignored her and her toes were soon wrapped in tighter-than-tight bandages, wound so thickly she could almost feel nothing when she placed her left foot down on the floor. Cassandra then tossed her the clothes and boots. "Change into these as fast as you can."

She caught the garments square in the arms, but the boots clattered to the floor next to her. "Are you taking me somewhere?" she asked Cassandra warily.

"Just do it."

Her tone did not sound like one to be trifled with and the girl promptly obeyed. With her back turned to the woman, she stripped off her pajamas and slid herself into a pair of breeches, a thick green tunic, and a glove for her right hand. When she asked Cassandra about the other one, she was told it was intentional. _Okay..._ She wrapped a gray scarf around her neck as a finishing touch, and when finished, felt slightly weighed down by all the clothing.

 _It must be really cold outside,_ she reasoned, _or I wouldn't need all this fabric._

And now the hard part...the boots. She slipped one onto her good foot easily enough but stared in apprehension at the left one, wondering what sort of pain she might subject herself to with such a narrow opening and tight space.

But Cassandra was waiting, and not wishing to incur her ire, the girl carefully enclosed her foot with its corresponding sock before tentatively picking her way through the boot's opening. It was an excruciatingly slow process, made even slower by her fear, and she could hear Cassandra sigh in relief when it was over.

"Finally," the woman muttered, and came over to her to tie her wrists back up, this time with rope. "Now follow me."


	2. Chapter 1

It was cold. And by cold, she meant thick, snowy, Colorado-winter-cold. She'd been to Colorado once, in the middle of winter. It wasn't a pleasant experience.

It took some time for her eyes to adjust to the startling brightness of the outside world. The prison had been dimly lit, easier on her head. Out here though, the sky was as white as the snow on the ground, and the brightness was too much for comfort. Her migraine reminded her of its presence and she had to take another deep gulp of air to keep it down in her stomach.

 _But it was summer last time I checked...how did it become winter so quickly? Where_ are _we?_

With teary eyes, the girl blinked and made another attempt to look at her surroundings. Perhaps she could get a clue by finding a sign to read. She wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be another country. Cassandra's accent sounded exotic...Russian, maybe? Or German? The town around them seemed antiquated, constructed with wood and stone like one would see in an illustration of ye olde times. Surrounded by tall, rocky mountains, it was the kind of town one thought of when reading fairy tales or might see in a fantasy movie. But as she was making her survey, her focus turned midway upon a strange formation in the skies – a spiraling pillar of light stretching down from the heavens, glowing with a bright green light she'd grown to despise.

Cassandra noticed her staring at it. "We call it the Breach," she supplied. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift; just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

"Explosion?" the girl echoed, remembering what Cassandra said about the Conclave. It had been destroyed, and everyone attending it had died. "Are you sure that bombs can do this? I know ISIS is a growing threat, but even I don't think they can pull _that_ off." She finished with a pointed nod at the Breach.

There was silence as the woman narrowed her eyes at her. "It was not a bomb," she said after a while. "Neither was it... _eye-sis_...at least, not that _we_ know of. You, on the other hand..."

She was interrupted when the Breach pulsed in the sky and widened in an explosion of light. A thundering crack split through the air as its energies flared, reverberating through the mountains. In response, the electricity in the girl's left hand burst out again, hissing and crackling with such vehemence that she was forced to her knees.

"Aaagh!" She instinctively hugged her hand closer to her body, as if cradling it tightly would make the pain go away. Of course, it didn't; a thousand little knives dug into her skin and threatened to cut through the very muscle and bone. Every fingertip flared with burning heat and tingled with pinching, prickly static. It hurt so badly she considered asking to get it amputated. Surely a severed limb would feel better in comparison?

Cassandra knelt down beside her, her face grim. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads...and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

 _Well, no shit,_ she thought as she heard that the mark was killing her. In fact, if left unchecked, she was afraid the thing might actually consume her...spread its electricity over her entire body...and she quailed at the thought. But upon hearing 'the key to stopping this', she asked, "Stopping what? The Breach?"

The woman nodded. "Your mark might actually close it. Whether that's possible is something we'll discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours."

She did not like the way Cassandra said those last two words. She also failed to see how a mark of electricity on her hand could close, much less stop, a thing the monstrous size of the Breach. How was she so sure she wouldn't be killed in the process? How was she even sure the mark wasn't etched on her palm by her captors in the first place?

But she did not voice these opinions as Cassandra pulled her to her feet. She had not seen it back in the prison, but a ragged scar ran down the length of the woman's cheek and there was a sword tucked in her belt as well as a large shield strapped on her back. Depending on how skilled she was, Cassandra could cut the girl down with little to no effort. She'd thought the inhabitants of wherever-this-was seemed a little...different. A little too obsessed with fantasy cosplaying. She didn't think they'd take it this seriously. Then again, they held her at swordpoint earlier – what _wouldn't_ they do?

Cassandra pushed her into a walk, a firm hand gripping her back as if to lay claim to her. In other words, she was reminding her of her inability to escape. The girl averted her eyes from the older woman's face, more than a little unnerved by its stony expression, but found nothing comforting in the eyes of the townspeople either. As they went through the town, walking down paths too small and undeveloped to really be called streets, and passing by more tents than buildings, the girl saw that everyone who laid eyes on them – or rather, her – twisted their faces into scowls, as if she were some sort of dirty creature come to make their lives worse.

"They have decided your guilt," Cassandra explained. "They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together; now, they are dead."

Could this get any more fantasy-like? It seemed semi-believable at first, what with the Conclave and the Breach in the sky, but then at 'mages' the girl almost let out a laugh. Of course, she stifled that urge with a well placed cough. "Um, look," she began, "you can tell the director to reveal the cameras now. This must've been fun, but I'd like to go home."

Cassandra glared at her. "Director? Cameras? What are you – are you feeling all right?"

 _I have a migraine, my body's sore, and my toe might get worse even though I can't feel it._ _No, I feel horrible, but,_ "I'm still sane, if that's what you mean."

"What is your point?"

"You...you know! This is all staged! You're an actress, these people are actors, and we're someplace in the Swiss Alps with special effects for some kind of reality show." When Cassandra didn't say anything, she added, "If you keep me here any longer with my injuries, I could sue your filming company for kidnapping charges." She wasn't sure if that was accurate according to the law, but if it could send the message across, she was willing to use it.

The grip on her back tightened and the look on Cassandra's face darkened. "The people's suffering is real. The Breach and rifts are real. The explosion at the Conclave was real. All that we've been through, and you have the gall to undermine it as _fake_?"

The girl winced when her left foot stubbed against a stone. Cassandra's pace had quickened, forcing her feet to do the same. "But how can this be real? I mean, mages...magic doesn't exist. You know that...right?"

They stopped at a gate on the edge of the town. Upon their arrival, a pair of soldiers pushed it open to reveal a stone bridge spanning a rocky gorge. Cassandra was silent as she pushed her prisoner onto this bridge, but after taking a few steps forward, she let go of her. The woman slid out a dagger that'd been sheathed from behind and poised the blade in the middle of the girl's ropes. The girl watched it warily, half-afraid the weapon would be plunged into her belly. When Cassandra jerked it a second later, she gave a start, but looked down to see her wrists free and the cut ropes lying at her feet.

"There will be a trial. I can promise no more." Cassandra tucked the dagger back into its sheath and turned around to continue walking. "Come. It is not far."

The girl stood there, blinking in surprise before starting after the stern woman. "Where are you taking me?" she asked apprehensively. "And aren't you afraid I might run away?"

"Are you running away right now?" Cassandra asked back, and the girl thought she could hear a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Lost in an unfamiliar land, deep in the middle of winter, and with an injured toe to boot; no, she realized, she could not, and would not run away. She'd be dead within the week out there in the snowy wilderness. That was if Cassandra didn't catch her first. The bandages were effective padding, but not enough for a run. Cassandra looked athletic, too. She really didn't stand a chance on her own.

"So...where are we going?" she repeated, ignoring the previous question altogether.

"Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach," the woman replied, and that was all she cared to say on the subject.

The girl bit down on her lower lip, wondering if she should ask for clarification, but Cassandra didn't seem the type to elaborate on things. She was also probably still pissed by the accusation earlier. The girl didn't think she wanted to test that anger again.

So she shut her mouth as she followed Cassandra across the bridge. There were more people farther down and she kept her eyes downcast in response. Though she knew she'd done nothing wrong, she didn't like being stared at so angrily. It scared her. This time, however, no one spared her a second glance. She soon knew why.

Wounded people. Dead people. Three soldiers reclined against the stone railing, nursing their bloody injuries. Another soldier was curled on the ground in a fetal position, rocking back and forth with an unstable look on his face. A person in red and white robes knelt praying over six canvas covered bundles...bundles in the eerie shape of the human body. The girl's foot then stepped on something soft and firm, like a limb, and she screamed in horror when she saw her boot touching the arm of a bloody corpse. Lifeless eyes stared up at her, as if in reproach of her clumsiness.

Cassandra whirled around with an annoyed expression on her face. "Watch your step," she snapped, and turned back to continue walking.

The girl sped after her with limping hops before resuming her previous slow pace. She hung closer to the woman now, as if in doing so she could avoid more encounters with the dead.

Regardless, they were everywhere. Five more bundles lay motionless to the left. A woman with what looked like a clipboard stood writing over – ten? _Eleven_? – bundles to the right. Another trio of wounded soldiers lay groaning on the ground, and it was to her distaste that she found the sight of them refreshing. Their injuries looked painful, but at least they were alive. Yet perhaps she spoke too soon, for she saw more canvas wrapped corpses stacked on a wagon to the right...and three more uncovered corpses to the left.

They had approached the next gate when the girl asked Cassandra to stop.

"What is it now?" the woman asked irritably, and jumped back in time to prevent the first wave of vomit from splashing on her boots. "Maker's breath!" she hissed.

It was just too much. The corpses, the migraine, the nausea lying dormant in her stomach...it was all awakened when one thought led to another, and she began to smell – or at least thought she smelled – the stink of carrion. Highly improbable what with the cold temperature, but her imagination ran wild nonetheless.

The girl shivered and hugged her stomach. She would have loved to sink to the ground, but that meant touching the same stones a dead body might have been on. So instead, she kept to her feet, even though her knees clattered like rickety beams.

"Are you quite finished?" Cassandra asked when no more vomit was forthcoming.

The girl ran a hand through her hair, groaning in disgust when she saw a chunk of vomit nestled in the black strands closest to her face. "Yeah," she rasped. "Is there anything I can wipe off with?"

"You can use your sleeve, or the snow," Cassandra suggested with a shrug. "We don't have much to spare you at the moment." Upon seeing the disgusted look spread on the girl's face, she asked, "Is this your first time seeing a corpse?"

The girl cringed. "Yes."

Cassandra sighed, as if she couldn't be bothered to deal with this latest obstacle. She shut her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered something under her breath before turning back to the girl. "Prepare yourself. There are more up ahead."

She supposed she should be lucky the woman made no snide remarks about fake corpses and staged deaths. That was the last thing the girl wanted on her nerves, even though she would have loved for it to be otherwise.

"Open the gate!" Cassandra yelled to the soldiers, who, the girl realized, had been audience to the vomiting spectacle. "We are headed into the valley!"

They pushed open the great wooden doors and watched with curiosity as Cassandra led the trembling girl out onto a dirt path. They didn't whisper, standing apart from each other as they did, but she had no doubt they would whisper once she and Cassandra were gone.

The gate closed behind them while they made their way up the path. It led up a slight incline, rounding the edge of a hill. Barricades of spiky wood lay in strategic positions along the sides, and one of them was manned by two soldiers brandishing their swords, watching the hilltop for any sign of danger. After passing that barricade, Cassandra allowed the girl a moment of repose to scoop up some snow and wipe her face and hair.

Harried footsteps scuffled the dirt in front of them and the girl looked up mid-wipe to see three men running down the hill. "Maker, it's the end of the world!" one of them yelled as they ran by. She knew she shouldn't have, but she stared wide-eyed after their quickly disappearing forms.

"Pay them no heed," Cassandra told her, dismissing the men with a wave.

The girl said nothing and rose to her feet.

They continued on their way and passed by two more soldiers using an overturned wagon as a barricade. Directly to the right, a corpse lay uncovered in the snow. The girl didn't know whether this was her twelfth or twentieth one today; she'd seen too many on the bridge to keep track. This corpse was different, though. It was dressed in robes etched with strange engravings, unlike the others, which had been armored or in tunics and breeches.

"A mage," Cassandra supplied.

 _Mage._ The word still didn't sound serious to her, but its ridiculousness was lessened by what she'd seen. That didn't make it seem more real, but everything was definitely grimmer than before.

Two more corpses lay on either side of the path. They preceded a burning wagon, and another, and then – her stomach lurched again – a burning body. This time she could clearly smell the smoking meat. _It smells like pork_ , she thought, and fought to keep the nausea back down. She found that shutting her eyes tight and imagining a barbecue party helped, although she wanted no piece of the food. _This'll keep me off of meat for a_ long _time_.

Cassandra noticed her discomfort (and her closed eyes) and led her by the arm up the hill. "They're gone," she said, and when the girl opened her eyes again, she saw that the woman was right. She could still smell the smoke behind them, though...charred wood mixed with burning flesh...she spit into the snow as the sour taste of bile rose into her throat and gently eased out of Cassandra's grip.

"I'm fine," she assured the woman. "I just...I just need to not think about it."

"Fair enough."

Crashing rocks alerted her to the Breach and she whirled around to see thick green meteors fall from the sky. As she feared, the Breach pulsed again and her left hand sizzled with heat. It came on more strongly this time, forcing her not only to her knees but down onto her back. Pulse after pulse of piercing pain swept through the nerves, making even the simple act of twitching her finger a feat of impossibility.

 _Oh my god, when will it stop?_ Tears streamed down her face as she cried out in pure agony. _Someone, make it stop! It hurts so much!_

Like a patient nanny, Cassandra bent over her and helped her up. Her hands were actually gentle this time, and when the girl was on her feet again, she even placed steadying hands on her shoulders.

"The pulses are coming faster now," Cassandra remarked. "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear...the more demons we face." She watched the green flares dance, waiting until they subsided, and then gave the girl an encouraging pat on the shoulder before continuing to lead the way.

Though the electricity was gone, the girl's left hand ached with the remnants of the last flare. She wiped at her eyes and nursed it carefully, unable to bring herself to look at the mark. In fact, she hadn't yet laid eyes on it in full. She was too scared of what she would see, and she'd been frightened enough on this walk already.

"How am I still alive?" she wondered aloud, her voice sore from crying out. She tried to explain this phenomena with what little scientific and medical knowledge she had, but couldn't arrive at an answer that seemed reasonable; at least, not without her being dead. Or horribly maimed.

"They said you...stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious," Cassandra began. "They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knew who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid to waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes."

The girl was confused at first on how those things correlated with one another: the rift, the woman, the valley. Then she realized Cassandra was talking about the explosion and was attributing her survival to the woman in the rift. Not the answer she expected...and not even one that made things the tiniest bit clearer. She pursed her lips, remembering the last time she doubted reality out loud, and remained silent.

The winter wind howled through the air, driving drifts of snow up against her boots. She watched the white flurries dance on the ground, thinking of how white and cloud-like they seemed. She sighed as she lost herself in their twirls, tracing the floating movements with her weary eyes. It took her mind off the pain and calmed her down, somewhat.

"What is your name?" Cassandra suddenly asked.

The girl jolted. "You want to know my name?" she sputtered.

"I do," Cassandra reaffirmed. Then her eyes narrowed. "Unless you're hiding something..."

She quickly shook her head. "N-no! I was just – I was just surprised. You didn't seem like...like you wanted to know..." But she was faced with another predicament as she tried to think of what to say. She had nothing to hide, but her name was rather complex. Should she give her full name? She'd have to explain how to pronounce it properly, though. That might take too long. Should she give her nickname? It was easier to say, but might come across as childish. She didn't have the luxury of taking long to decide, though, for every passing second would be interpreted as hesitance. So she blurted out, "Ahnnie. My name is Ahnnie."

" _Aw-nee_?" Cassandra frowned.

 _I knew it,_ Ahnnie thought. _She thinks it's childish._ With a sigh, she began to stammer, "It's actually a nickname. My, um, my real name, because I'm Asian, you know, is Diễm Anh."

" _Yee-ah...Yee-ahm..._ "

Ahnnie chuckled nervously as Cassandra tried to imitate the up-and-down intonation on the first part of her name. "Yeah, so, I use my nickname more. I mean, you could just call me Anh...but I prefer Ahnnie. See, my friends made it up for me in the fourth grade. People always misspelled my name as A-h-n instead of A-n-h...so they just stuck an 'ee' to the end of it, and it became...Ahnnie."

Rather than clearing up any doubt, her explanation only seemed to confuse Cassandra further.

"Just call me Ahnnie," she said at last, and the conversation ended there.

They soon came to a second bridge. It was smaller than the first and arched over a frozen river. Ahnnie was relieved to see that no dead lay upon its stones; there were soldiers up ahead who were very much alive and free of injuries. This bridge was also clear of rubble, so compared to what she'd seen earlier, crossing it was going to be like a walk in the park.

And then a meteor struck.

It landed squarely on the group of soldiers, sending them flying in a blast of brilliant emerald light. Ahnnie shielded her eyes and coughed as dust rose up around her. Then the bridge began to shake, and the stones beneath her feet gave away. In a maddening tumble, she and Cassandra fell through the crumbling stones, screaming as they bumped and rolled tumultuously down onto the ice.

Ahnnie in particular landed with a thud on her back. _Ooogh..._ She grimaced as pain lanced through her spine. Her head felt even worse, and she had to lie there a moment to let the haze pass before rolling onto her stomach. When she looked up, she was amazed to see Cassandra already back on her feet, poised and alert. _That woman must be made of steel!_ How else could she rebound so quickly?

Another meteor burst out from the Breach and hit the ice in front of them. Ahnnie closed her eyes again, feeling the impact vibrate through the ice. When it settled a moment later, she opened her eyes a crack and saw something grow out of the spot where the meteor had hit.

Her eyes widened when it became a monster.

"What – What the hell is that?" she yelled. It was a sickly brown color and as big as a man, perhaps even bigger, roughly six to seven feet tall. Its body was angular and torpedo-shaped, and its shoulders were thickened as though hunchbacked. Its arms were spindly in comparison, a garish mockery of humanoid limbs. It had no legs as far as she could tell, or its legs were covered by the robe-like bottom it was wearing if that wasn't an extension of its own skin.

The monster reared its head and let out a screeching, ear-splitting shriek. Ahnnie felt that shriek deep in her chest and froze in place like a frightened animal.

Cassandra felt it too, but took it as a challenge rather than a reason to cower. "Stay behind me!" she commanded, and with her sword in one hand and her shield in the other, she ran up to face the monster.

 _Don't leave me here!_ Ahnnie wanted to scream, but her mouth was frozen in a wide 'O'. She couldn't summon the courage to blink, much less move.

Just when things couldn't get any worse, the ice in front of her cracked and hissed. She looked at the spot and saw the ice bubbling darkly, followed by a glowing green energy. _No._ The cracking intensified and the green energy flared. _No!_ She gripped the ice in terror as the energy ruptured in a great pillar of green light, and another brown monster just like the first one burst through.

This second monster spared no time getting down to business, roaring at her and slashing at her face with a spindly claw. She yelped and rolled away; shards of ice flew past her vision as the monster missed its mark. It roared again and swiped after her, tearing at the edge of her scarf. She scrambled to her knees and scuttled away as fast as she could, but its claws came in close behind her every single time.

"Help! Someone help me!" Ahnnie screamed, but there was no one to hear her plea. Cassandra was busy fighting the first monster, the soldiers on the bridge were dead, and there was not another soul around for miles; unless a bolt of lightning came down from the sky to strike the monster where it stood, no one would come to her aid.

No one, except for herself.

She swerved again as the monster made another attack, but tumbled to the ground and found herself vulnerable on her back, the deadly monster hovering over her. Its next strike would surely take her, ripping through clothes and deep into skin, spilling her blood and guts onto the ice. In a wild frenzy, her hands grabbed out at anything that could save her – anything that could delay the inevitable – and just as the monster bore down on her again, she grabbed hold of a wooden circle and hefted it over her body.

 _Crack!_ The monster's claws hit the wood, splintering its surface. It took Ahnnie a moment to register that she was safe, thanks to the wood. _No, it's a shield_ , she realized when she saw a metallic handle, and she grasped it awkwardly as she mobilized herself to prepare for the next strike. _Crack!_ The monster hit again, the impact of its strike jarring her uncomfortably, but once again she was safe. She backed herself against a pile of rubble to try and regain her footing.

As she did so, she spied a sword from the corner of her eye and thought _jackpot_. Now if only she could get closer to it. She let the shield take another hit from the monster and slowly edged her bottom towards the sword. Just a little more. _Crack!_ This time the monster lunged at her shield with the force of its weight on its elbow. She winced as the impact shoved her roughly against the broken stones, but her free hand groped about the ice in search of the sword regardless.

 _Almost...almost!_ Her gloved fingers clawed at the pommel, bumping against the metal.

The monster drew back in preparation for another strike.

 _Please! Come on!_ She stretched her arm as far as it could go. Her muscles screamed with the exertion, but she fought against it.

The monster lunged down at her.

Her fingers scrabbled faster against the ice and touched the leather wrapping of the handle.

The monster flared its claws and rent the air with another deafening shriek.

Her fingers finally found purchase on the grip of the sword and she swung it upwards. In a desperate motion, she threw the shield aside to hold up the heavy weapon in two hands. The monster closed in on her and she screamed as it fell...

...impaling itself against the blade.

Black blood splattered all over her clothes, some even landing on her face, one drop threatening to spill into her mouth. The monster screamed, writhed, and then drop dead before her eyes. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as she stared into its deadly maw, frozen into a perpetual scream. It was dead. She had killed it. _She_ killed a monster!

"Ah...ahaha...ahahaha!" Relief and panic mixed in the pit of her stomach, a roiling battleground of ticklish feeling, and she tossed her head back to let out a burst of maniacal laughter. She found no hilarity in the situation, but she couldn't help herself. Her arms shook in rhythm with her mirth, and with the heavy monster still stuck on the blade, her hands threatened to let go of the sword and let the dead thing tumble on top of her.

She was relieved of that problem when the monster's body started dissipating into dust, blown away by the howling wind. _Is it a demon?_ she wondered, remembering what Cassandra said about the rifts. And yet she still laughed at the empty blade, so shocked was she at what just happened.

Eventually she ran out of wind for her laughs, and she slowly eased back into sanity. With a gentle lowering of her sword, she rose to her feet. The ice, slick with the monster's blood, threatened to make her slip on her first step. She eased away from the liquid and looked around for Cassandra. The woman was battling a third monster that had appeared while Ahnnie had been struggling with the second one, the first monster already a spot of black blood on the ice. She contemplated going over to help, but then Cassandra cut down the monster with an adept blow and the thing tumbled lifelessly onto the ice. A moment later, it, too, faded into nothing but dust.

Ahnnie tensed and raised her sword in trembling hands as she scanned the length of the frozen river, half expecting another creature to show up out of nowhere. When everything was still, she relaxed her position and pointed the sword downwards.

Cassandra, on the other hand, kept her sword up and stormed over to her. Ahnnie thought at first that she was zeroing in something behind her and whirled around to face it, but when Cassandra got closer, she realized that the sword was up and pointed at _her_.

"Drop your weapon. _Now,_ " the woman barked.

Ahnnie's fingers released the sword and the weapon clattered onto the ice. "B-but what if there are more?" she protested. "How am I supposed to protect myself?"

"You won't need to."

"How do you know that?"

Cassandra paused. Then she sighed in defeat. "You're right. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless. Your life is threatened enough as it is."

Ahnnie gulped and watched her carefully. "So...I can have the sword?"

Cassandra sheathed her weapon and straightened her stance. "Yes, you may."

The girl sighed in relief and picked up the sword again. It was ungainly in her hands, though, heavy and burdensome on the wrists. Cassandra noticed the clumsy way she held it and added, "Just listen to what I tell you to do and you should be fine. And here, wear this..." She plucked a helmet from a dead soldier who'd been squished beneath the stones and plopped it over Ahnnie's head. "Maker knows what we will face."

The girl shivered when the cold metal touched her head, but brushed the stray hair out of her face when she saw no other alternative. Whatever protection she could find, it was best to use it...even if it came from a dead person. As she looked down at the unfortunate soul whose helmet she now wore, she asked, "Maybe the soldiers can help us? Aren't there more up ahead?"

The answer that Cassandra gave her filled her with dread. "No. They are all at the forward camp, or fighting. We are on our own for now."


	3. Chapter 2

The brown monsters were called shades, and just as Ahnnie suspected, they were demons that had come through the rifts. What she didn't expect was that they were only one of many.

"So there are different _kinds_ of demons?" the girl asked bewilderingly.

Cassandra nodded. "There are demons, and then there are demonic possessions. Demons have different attributes based on the emotions they feed off of, such pride, sloth, terror. You will usually see them in their true form. Demonic possessions are abominations created when a demon takes possession of a mage or a corpse. Some have even been known to possess trees."

"What about the shades?"

"The shades are not entirely clear...some say they are the true form of a demon appearing out of the Fade without a host. Others believe they are the spirits of the dead returned to the mortal world." She shrugged. "Whatever they are, it only matters that they are cut down as swiftly as possible."

Ahnnie nodded, taking a moment to digest the information. "What's the Fade?" she next asked.

"It is a realm where spirits and demons reside, separated from the mortal world by the Veil."

"What's the Veil?"

"Maker's breath!" Cassandra hissed. "So many questions! Do you truly not know what the Fade and Veil are?"

"No...that is, I truly _don't_ know what they are."

"So you are hearing of them for the first time?"

"Well, yes..." That much was obvious if she was asking about them.

Cassandra furrowed her brows at the girl as if she were an oddity. At last, she said, "The Veil is a barrier between the Fade and the mortal world. The rifts and the Breach are tears in the Veil that demons can pass through; they are not easily let out otherwise." She let this sink in before asking, "Any more questions?"

Ahnnie shook her head.

"Good."

They walked some more in silence, boots crunching on the snow and frozen dirt. After the encounter on the river, they had walked up the ice back onto solid ground as an alternative to the bridge. The path then continued on a high bank along the river's course, so that it was visible alongside them as they went. Ahnnie's eyes occasionally flitted from the path to the ice, watching for the slightest sign of another demon.

But more often than not, it was the dead they encountered on the trail. More of these corpses were mages, as Ahnnie saw from their robes, although they were still outnumbered by the soldiers. Cassandra stooped down several times to unbuckle armor from dead soldiers and tie it onto Ahnnie when she thought a certain piece would fit the girl. When she was finished, Ahnnie wore a breastplate, pauldrons, and greaves in addition to her helmet.

It felt funny and awkward to move underneath the metal at first. Then Ahnnie soon grew used to it, although she didn't move as smoothly as Cassandra did in her armor. She suspected it was because the woman was armed in mostly leather, which was more flexible than metal. Another worry was added to her list when she considered that metal was conductive and her left hand might flare again.

She supposed she was lucky, then, that the cursed hand was currently wrapped around the hilt of her sword. It was, of course, inconvenient to be carrying a heavy sword in both hands all the time. After the first few minutes, her arms started to tire and she had to invent new ways of holding or shifting the sword so that its weight did not bother her as much. Cassandra had not yet looted a sword belt though, and neither did Ahnnie think she wanted her to. Or if she did, then she would hold her left hand as far away from her body as possible.

"How are you feeling?" Cassandra asked her a moment later.

Ahnnie perked up at this question of concern. She made a mental evaluation of herself and found that her aches and pains had been kept at bay in order to focus on her survival. But when she thought of them again, they crept back up in slow amounts. She backed out of those thoughts as quickly as possible and said, "Oh, I'm fine...why do you ask?"

The woman jerked her head in the direction of the river. "There are shades up ahead."

She looked to where Cassandra indicated and saw two of those demons sliding around on the ice. They moved in a peculiar manner, using their arms as a propelling force while their feet – well, she wasn't sure if they were feet or just a big block of flesh, but she called them 'feet' anyway – slid with the momentum.

 _It's like they're swimming,_ she observed as she saw one shade stretch its arms to the front before waving them aside in a tense, sweeping motion, as though to push itself through water. _What's it called...frog stroke? Breaststroke?_

She found herself amused despite knowing how deadly these creatures could be. And then remembering that deadliness, she scanned the path ahead to see if there was any way they could skirt around the shades. Perhaps if they stuck to the far side and were quiet, then the demons wouldn't notice them? But then she saw why Cassandra asked her if she was well enough, for the path soon dipped in a downward decline that led straight onto the frozen river. Tall rocks walled them in so that there were no alternative paths; running into the shades was inevitable.

Ahnnie gulped. "Okay," she said with a shaky exhalation and gestured weakly at the demons with a hand. "So...um..."

Cassandra stood in front of her, blocking her view of the demons. "Listen carefully. The sword you are holding – it is not well-suited for your body frame, but you can still use it effectively, if you heed my words."

"I'm listening," she nodded.

Cassandra then took hold of the sword, relieving her of its weight. "You see this?" She tapped a gloved finger lightly on the sword's point. "It is a straight blade, meant for stabbing. Mostly quick, thrusting motions. Do _not_ make the mistake of slashing with the edge." She backed away and made a mock swing with the sword, in which the enemy would have been hit by the edge of the blade. "It will not be effective. You must slice with the tip, instead." She did the same thing, only this time it was the tip of the blade that struck the invisible enemy.

"Then a curved blade is better for slashing," Ahnnie inferred, "and should not be thrusted?" She was thinking of the Japanese katana in particular, or the Arabian scimitar. Now that Cassandra mentioned it, she saw the sense in the way that blades were used in relation to their shape.

"Correct. And when you fight, draw your power from your shoulders." Cassandra straightened and rolled a shoulder as an example. "This is where the bulk of your strength will come from, especially if your wrists cannot take the weight."

 _Thrusting and slicing motions; no slashing, and power from the shoulders,_ Ahnnie repeated in her mind as she took back the sword. "Got it."

Cassandra reached over again to readjust the placement of the girl's fingers, then nodded and pat her on the shoulder. Without another word, she led the way down the path and Ahnnie followed her like an obedient pup.

The girl's heart skipped a beat as they left the safety of the ground above and traded it for the dangers of the frozen river below. As they stepped onto the ice, Cassandra yelled out another piece of advice. "If we flank them, we may gain an advantage!"

At the sound of her voice, the shades whirled around and pushed themselves towards the humans.

 _Flank...advantage..._ For a split second, Ahnnie panicked as she forgot what the word 'flank' meant. Then she saw Cassandra heading up towards the side of a demon, and rushed to do the same with the other one. But she was slower because of her foot and cursed herself when she thought the second demon might gang up on Cassandra. Luckily (or not so luckily), it caught sight of her and oh-so-considerately propelled itself forward, saving her the distance.

Ahnnie stopped and stood her ground, more out of fear than courage. The monster came closer and as it neared, it let out that piercing shriek that made her want to quake in her very boots. _Thrust, slice, shoulders –_ the words played over and over in her mind like a mantra. As long as she knew these words, she assured herself that she would be safe.

And then the shade struck out with its trademark claw swipe. Ahnnie yelped and shielded herself with the sword. The claws rang on the metal and sent a small shower of sparks flying in the air.

She was pretty sure she'd just violated one of Cassandra's rules somehow. To make up for it, she pulled the sword back and thought of doing one of the tip-slices, but then another claw came in quickly after the first and she instinctively blocked it with the sword. Before she could do anything else, the monster struck again, and again, and again.

 _It's too fast!_ She grit her teeth as her feet began to slide. Cassandra, on the other hand, was hacking and slashing freely at her shade. _How does she do it?_ The only explanation Ahnnie could find was that she hadn't let the demon make the first blow. _But then how am I ever going to get a hit?_

She had her answer when one of the demon's strikes went a little overhanded and it cut its palm against the tip of her blade. It shrieked in what looked like pain, jerking back and holding its injured claw aloft. She scrambled to take advantage of this opening and swung the sword like a baseball bat; the blade's tip sliced against the monster's torso. Encouraged, she drew back her arms for another swing, but her wrists pivoted too slowly and the shade's good hand clawed her on the edge of her shoulder. Her breath caught when she saw the claws tear through cloth, but they had mostly struck the pauldron.

Ahnnie drew back a few steps and checked her shoulder. _It's just the cloth,_ she sighed in relief when she saw no blood and felt no pain. _Okay, now back to the –_ but she had committed the fatal battlefield mistake of being too preoccupied with trivialities, and the shade advanced on her. She did not notice until almost too late. With a startled cry, she raised her sword to block another swipe and felt the impact of a second one knock her from the side. This one, now, cut through skin. Her breastplate had taken half the blow, so that three half-finished slash marks were etched onto her ribs.

She hissed in pain and clutched her side in one hand. The sword lay useless in the uncultured grip of her other hand.

"Ignore it! Swing!" Cassandra commanded her as she finished cutting the first shade down.

Ahnnie reluctantly left her wound alone and held the sword in two hands again. But when she swung, she had only gone halfway until the pain in her side made her stop and slide to the ground.

Just in time, Cassandra came up from behind the monster and slashed at it viciously. The shade roared, turning around to face her instead. "Get back up!" she yelled to Ahnnie. "I have its attention! Use this chance to strike from behind!"

 _But it hurts!_ she wanted to protest. She knew that answer wouldn't sit well with Cassandra, though. And then Ahnnie thought of what might happen if it was the other way around, if _Cassandra_ was killed by the monster, and she paled as she realized that meant she would be left alone with it and whatever else was out there.

So she quickly got up to her feet and did her best to pull through the pain. _If I don't do this, I'll be left alone to fend for myself,_ she mentally warned, and the thought – even though it might not come true – effectively tricked her into the sort of panic that had saved her life earlier.

" _Hah!_ " Ahnnie grunted as she sliced at the monster. The shade screamed and tried to turn to face her, but then Cassandra hacked at it again and it turned back to her.

"Good! Keep going!" Cassandra encouraged her.

Ahnnie grit her teeth against the pain and made another laborious swing. The monster turned to her again, and when Cassandra hacked at it, it found itself stuck between two difficult choices. Back and forth this went, a macabre game where they each took turns injuring the trapped shade.

"Now thrust," was the next command, and Ahnnie heaved with all her strength to plunge her blade deep into the creature's middle.

It shrieked and writhed, jarring her grip on the blade in its death throes, and then sank motionlessly to the ground. It forced her sword down as it fell and Ahnnie knelt along with the movement; then, when it was still, she pulled at the sword and yanked it out of the dead creature.

Cassandra watched as the girl panted for breath and held her injured side again. "You did well," she said, "although you were too open the first time."

Ahnnie smiled dryly _._ If Cassandra was being nice, she was too obvious about it.

"You must watch for openings," Cassandra went on. "Think as you move: is it going to hit here? Will it open up its side? Always be engaged. You cannot pull back to strategize or contemplate for any length of time, because you may fall dead before the second even finishes."

"Easier said than done," the girl sighed as she remembered how fast the creature had struck. The only thoughts she had in her head were in concern for her own safety. How was it possible to squeeze in any strategies? She'd tried that, got distracted, and failed horribly.

Cassandra came up to her and inspected her side. The green of the tunic was soaked in dark blood. She carefully pried her fingers around the torn cloth to inspect the wound. "It is not too deep," she evaluated. "Once we reach the forward camp, you can get it patched up. In the meantime, stay sharp and stick close to me. Keep your glove off the wound," she added when the girl moved to hold it again. "You don't want it to become slippery with blood; it will ruin your grip."

They walked down the ice and were met with another shade. Ahnnie groaned inwardly upon seeing it, but it was only one and Cassandra decided to take it on herself. So Ahnnie stood back and watched as the woman fell upon the demon with her trademark untiring ferocity – _h_ _ack, slash, slice, stab_ – but things became different when a rush of green energy blasted over Cassandra and made her falter.

Cassandra cursed and cast about for the source of the disturbance in addition to keeping up the fight. "Up on that hill," she pointed out. "It attacks from a distance!"

Ahnnie immediately looked to where Cassandra pointed. There on that snowy hill, a green ghost floated above them, firing similarly-hued wispy balls at the action below.

"Take it down," Cassandra added as she dodged its attack.

"Alone?" Ahnnie yelled back, flabbergasted.

"It is a lesser wraith. They are weak and their magic only lasts a few seconds, but it would be best to take them out as soon as possible. If that one fires too much at me, we will soon be at a disadvantage."

Ahnnie nodded and reluctantly moved away from Cassandra. She went up the bank and jogged up a set of stairs etched into the ground that led to the wraith. It fired green balls her way as she advanced, but she ducked from a greater part of them. Still, whenever she was hit she felt a cold rush of air before momentarily faltering with her footing and grip on the blade. It was at such moments that she wished she had a shield, but there was no more complaining to be done when she finally reached it.

 _Wait...it's not solid,_ she realized. _How am I supposed to take it down?_

Cassandra was too occupied for her to ask the question though, and the wraith was forming another green ball in its hands. In a panic, the girl struck out at the wraith with a slash.

As she expected, the sword fell directly through it. It wasn't unaffected, however; it dropped its arms to its sides and drifted back, as if it had felt the impact. Bolstered by this observation, Ahnnie slashed again, and for once she was the one assaulting with the most speed. The wound in her side prevented her from swinging too widely, but that was enough to face this enemy. After a few such slashes, however ungainly, the wraith dispersed in a puff of green smoke.

 _Well, that was easy!_

Below her, Cassandra had finished off the shade and was making her way up the hill. As she came close, she looked out at the snow and river ahead of them. "We still have some ways to go," she murmured. And then she saw Ahnnie. "I see you've finished off the wraith."

"Yeah, it wasn't too difficult." Then she paused. "It's not going to...come back, is it?" For the girl was suddenly afraid that this was one of those too-good-to-be-true moments.

"No. It really is that weak."

"So it's dead, right?" The thing didn't exactly 'die' the way normal things did, after all.

Cassandra shrugged. "I don't know. But it's gone, which is just as good. Now come along – we cannot waste any more time." She quickly crested the hill and went down the steps on the other side. Ahnnie followed, sword pointed downwards.

The path led them back down onto another stretch of frozen river. Ahnnie had begun to associate walking on the ice with encountering demons by now, but it was not so this time. Their trek went largely unmolested, the only things worthy of note being the occasional corpse sprawled on the ice or the howls of a faraway animal. The girl kept a tense grip on the sword regardless, remembering what Cassandra told her _._ She could easily infer from that that it was necessary to stay on the alert. Even the slightest stray thought might throw her off-guard. If another demon struck out now, she wanted to be prepared. She didn't want another wound like the one on her side...or something worse.

A steep staircase flanked by short stone walls greeted them after moments of silent walking. Ahnnie hoped that this was where they were going to go and was happy to see Cassandra turn in its direction. She was not so happy when she saw that the stairs stretched for a long, long way up. In consequence, her sword was suddenly made more cumbersome as they mounted the steps.

So she was surprised when Cassandra offered to hold it. "You need to keep your strength," she explained. "We're getting close to the rift; you can hear the fighting."

Ahnnie paused for a moment and indeed heard the din of clashing metal amidst the wind. A few steps later, the sounds of yelling men echoed along. An anxious feeling welled in her stomach as she wondered what was going on. "Who's fighting?"

"You'll see soon. We must help them."

She assumed from this answer that it was a group of soldiers. _Ah, so this is where they're fighting,_ she thought, remembering that the soldiers were either doing that or were at the forward camp. And then she slowly pieced two-and-two together... _a rift is close by, and the soldiers are fighting. It sounds like there are quite a few of them, too. So there must be even_ more _demons up ahead!_

When they reached the top of the stairs, Cassandra handed the sword back to her. She accepted it wordlessly and they advanced along the path. Directly to their right, a bridge with burning rubble lay awash in flames. They went by it, though, as the sound of fighting came from directly up ahead. The path ended at a short stone wall, beyond which lay the rubble of what was once an impressive stone building. Ahnnie saw a group of men fighting some shades within its broken confines and a dark green crystal floating over them. For that was what it looked like to her: a crystal.

She knew it was linked to her mark when she not only saw it surrounded by a familiar green miasma, but felt her left hand vibrate. She clenched that hand tighter, afraid of another flaring episode, but it only vibrated this time in a silent hum.

 _So this is a rift,_ she thought, looking back up at the crystal. _How do I 'close' it?_

Cassandra jumped down the wall and ran to join the fighting. Ahnnie sat her bottom on the wall and slid down carefully instead. Once on the ground, she proceeded to walk over the rubble, taking stock of the situation while she had the chance. The men were moving too much for her to count, but it looked like they were fighting three shades. _Not as many demons as I thought,_ and she felt some relief. _Perhaps they destroyed the others while we were coming here?_

Ahnnie held her sword up as she stalked behind a broken wall. On the other side, Cassandra was fighting a shade. When the demon pushed its back into her line of vision, she straightened up and made a forceful swing. The blade felt out of control in her rolling wrists, but a ragged line of black ripped across the shade's skin regardless and it roared angrily.

Cassandra took advantage of the opening to make a deep cut of her own. "Good thinking," she told the girl. "It is always advantageous to strike from behind."

Ahnnie made another such swing but of a lesser span, finding that if she moved moderately, the pain in her side would not be unnecessarily stretched and her wrists wouldn't have to work half as hard. "I was actually scared," she admitted.

"But you used strategy," Cassandra pointed out as she finished off the monster, and the girl supposed that that was true. Still, it was strategy in a moment of peace, hardly the mid-combat thinking that Cassandra seemed to possess.

That being done, Cassandra moved off to help one of the men. Ahnnie followed close behind and was astonished at first to see how short this man was. She would have mistaken him for a child if not for his thick frame. And he was reckless, taking on a shade at such close quarters with what looked like little to no armor and only a crossbow.

But before she could reach him, a hand pulled on her left wrist and dragged her to the side. She dropped her sword in surprise, almost stumbling over a stray stone. When she righted herself, she turned to stare at the man who had handled her so roughly.

The first thing she noticed were his pointed ears.

"Quickly, before more come through!" he cried, and raised her hand towards the rift.

"What–" But she was cut off when her left hand burst with such a light that it almost blinded her. She screamed for the umpteenth time that day, not so much in pain this time as with incredulity.

A beam of green energy flowed from the mark in her hand to the center of the rift. It hurt, yes, but what got to her the most was the strange pulling sensation. It was as if the center of her palm and whatever was within it was being sucked out by the beam. She tried to yank against the pointy-eared man's grip, sure that she would lose her hand in this strange, science-defying feat, but he held firm and would not let her go.

The rift morphed as the beam fed into it, losing its jagged edge and falling into itself until it was an amorphous blob. Then the blob began to separate, stretching out like putty, and green light danced crazily all around them. The more it intensified, the more unstable the rift seemed to become. And then, in one thunderous boom, everything exploded in a brilliant sheen of light. Ahnnie gasped and drew back, shielding her eyes with her right hand. When she looked out a moment later, the rift was gone.

She brusquely yanked her wrist from the pointy-eared man and backed away from him. "What was that?" she asked him fearfully. "What did you do?"

Now that she saw him more clearly, she noticed in addition to his pointed ears that he was as bald as a bird's egg. He left his head bare, even though he was properly clothed for the weather; if he felt cold, he did not show it. A mystical-looking staff was also strapped on his back, and had this been a fantasy movie she would've pegged him as the magician.

He smiled at her, his manner as serene as though they were simply discussing the weather. " _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours."

"You...you must have done _something..._ my hand never did that before!"

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark on your hand," he explained matter-of-factly. "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct."

"Meaning that it could also close the Breach itself," Cassandra suggested.

"Possibly," the bald man shrugged. Turning back to Ahnnie, he gave her a thoughtful look. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

She hugged her left hand uncertainly. "I do?"

"Good to know!" a rough voice suddenly exclaimed from behind. Ahnnie whirled around and saw the little man adjusting his gloves, his crossbow resting against his back. "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." Striding up to the girl, he confidently introduced himself, "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." He finished with a wink at Cassandra, who scowled in response.

Ahnnie took a step back, intimidated by the sight of his ginger chest hair. His shirt was open along the top, exposing plenty of it. It was a ridiculous thing to fixate on, but she couldn't help staring at his chest. It all seemed skewed, somehow, that he should have such a thick torso and be so short at the same time.

"I know, I know," he chuckled, "I'm just too good to be true. Feel free to look as much as you want; I'm not going anywhere."

She blushed and averted her eyes. "No, I wasn't – I don't – unwelcome tagalong?" she then asked, trying to change the subject.

"Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you," Varric explained.

 _He is? Why?_

"I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine," Cassandra cut in before Ahnnie could speak. "Clearly that is no longer necessary."

"Yet here I am; lucky for you, considering the events." He sounded smug.

Cassandra stepped in front of Ahnnie, blocking her view of Varric. " _Absolutely not._ Your help is appreciated Varric, but–"

"Have you been in the valley, Seeker?" he interrupted. "Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You _need_ me."

She paused, silenced by his argument. Then she shook her head and moved away with a disgusted, "Ugh."

"My name is Solas, if there are to be any introductions," the bald man then said, a smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. "I'm pleased to see you still live."

Ahnnie watched him suspiciously, remembering how he had forced her to close the rift.

"He means, ' _I kept that mark from killing you while you slept_ '," Varric clarified when he saw her look. "You know; back at the prison?"

Her suspicion only deepened. "Did you put it there?"

Solas seemed as unaffected by her accusation as he was by the cold. He did, however, attempt to be gentle. "I understand how things might seem to you. No, I did not put the mark on your–"

"Did Cassandra do it?"

The Seeker whirled around defiantly. "Absolutely not!" she snapped.

"I didn't do it, either," Varric interjected before the girl could get around to asking him. "I'm a prisoner too, remember?"

"Well, how am I supposed to believe any of you?" Ahnnie countered. She didn't mean to, but suddenly everyone she saw became a prime suspect in this strange predicament of hers. As her mind raced with what she had been through, her paranoia gained traction like a speeding train down a steep track. "First, I'm at home and this green light tries to attack my dogs; second, it drops me into some dark place with giant spiders; and then third, I wake up handcuffed in a dungeon and there's this...this _thing_ in my hand...!"

She winced at a sharp sting in her side and clutched it with a gloved hand; the winter wind had driven itself against her wound, sending small snow particles into the exposed skin. All of a sudden, she felt her adrenaline-pumped strength drain away and leave her back in her former position, aching and ailing with a migraine in her head. She slid down to the ground, hugging her bloody side, head hanging down in resignation. _Someone just kill me right now,_ she whimpered, feeling close to tears.

Solas came up to her, his face softening in pity. "Poor child," he murmured, and drew out his staff. Ahnnie flinched as its tip came close to her injured side, but watched with mesmerization as a cool white light began to emanate from it. He chanted a string of foreign words under his breath and the light fluctuated with every intonation. She became aware of a gentle warmth on her wounded side a moment later and felt the torn cloth with a careful hand.

"It's...it's healed," Ahnnie stammered in shock. "You...healed me..."

Solas smiled and drew back his staff. "I know you must be frightened," he began, "but right now, we need your help. Everything will be explained in due time, I promise you." And he held out his hand to her, an encouraging twinkle in his eyes.

She accepted the hand and allowed herself to be pulled back onto her feet. She stayed quiet for a moment, wondering if these strange people were still deserving of her suspicion. Just because one of them healed her miraculously didn't make them any better. Her anger lost much of its edge though, and when she imagined an entire group of people conspiring against her, placing an electric mark in her hand and forcing her to close demonic rifts in the sky, it seemed more than a little impossible. She was just one person and hardly anyone important. What benefit did they stand to gain in endangering her like so? It was kind of random, now that she thought of it.

 _I guess, for now, they're okay,_ she decided.

Solas then turned to the Seeker. "Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I've ever seen. Your prisoner is no mage." His eyes flitted to her briefly before coming back to Cassandra. "Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."

That word again, _mage_. And magic. Ahnnie was starting to become less skeptical of it, though.

"Understood," Cassandra nodded. "We must get to the forward camp quickly."

"Wait, let me find my sword," Ahnnie said as she scanned the ground for the weapon. She couldn't go unarmed, after all.

"What, that clunky thing?" Varric asked. "No, what you need is a short sword. You looked like a dancing bear wielding that other one!" He pilfered the mentioned blade from a dead soldier's belt, paused, unbuckled the whole belt, and then handed the items to her. "Take his shield while you're at it," he added, and when she did so, he nodded in approval. "There you go. All set."

Varric was right; the short sword was lighter and easier in her hands. Ahnnie sheathed it, tightened the belt across her waist, and strapped the shield, a sturdy circle of wood, onto her wrist.

Without any further ado, Cassandra and Solas went ahead towards a spot to the right that was sectioned off by wooden boards rather than taking the stairs ahead of them. "The road ahead is blocked," Cassandra explained, and she hopped over the wood agilely, Solas following suit.

Varric chuckled as he moved forward. "Well, Bianca's excited!" he remarked.

Ahnnie followed after him slowly, testing the weight of her new items against her steps. "Who's that?" she asked.

"My crossbow."

"Oh."

Cassandra helped the girl over the wood when she seemed reluctant to jump and held her steady to keep her from tumbling down the steep hill path. When Varric joined them a second later, the quartet began their careful descent.

* * *

"So, I take it you're not from around here?" Varric asked.

Ahnnie looked up from staring off into space and glanced over at the short man. They had already left the hill behind and were walking down another path, once again alongside an icy river. "No, I'm not," she replied.

"I figured as much." He stared at her thoughtfully. "Your accent doesn't give much away...and your features..."

"Speaking of which, she still has that pallor, Cassandra," Solas remarked to the Seeker. "I thought I told you not to bring her out until she was better?"

"We had no choice," Cassandra argued. "She didn't seem to get any better, and the Breach was getting worse."

Ahnnie looked from Cassandra to Solas. "What? What pallor?"

"Your skin," Solas explained. "Unless you've noticed, it's a pale yellowish tint..."

She frowned. Then it hit her: "Oh, no! No! I'm not pale! Well, maybe a little," she considered as she thought of her wound earlier and the physical misery she'd been through, as well as her mostly indoors lifestyle back home, "but that's actually my natural skin color. I'm Asian."

"Oh...I'm so sorry," Solas apologized when he realized how offensive he sounded. "I meant no harm. But of what nationality is _Ay-zhin_ , if I may ask? I've never heard of it before."

"She mentioned it earlier," Cassandra remarked, "when I asked for her name. She also talked of directors and cameras. Even threatened to sue my ' _filming company_ ' for kidnapping charges."

Ahnnie cleared her throat in embarrassment. "Erm, well, um..."

"What're cameras?" Varric asked.

"Do I look like I know?" Cassandra retorted.

Solas nodded as he took this all in. "I see..." Turning back to Ahnnie, he asked, "Care to elaborate?"

She was about to explain, but then frowned again. "You...really don't know what 'Asian' is?"

"I'm afraid not."

Was he serious? Could they really be as ignorant as she thought? When she saw their questioning faces, however, she realized with a sinking feeling that yes, they were. "If you say so..." Thus, rather haltingly, she began, "Asian is a race, from the continent of Asia. It's a blanket term that means people more to the _east_ of Asia, really, 'cause they're the first people to come to mind even though there's plenty of other ethnicities there too...Anyway, East Asians have yellowish skin like me, and black hair, with mostly brown or black eyes...Our features are...uh..."

She scratched the back of her head _._ "Well, it depends on where you're from. If you're Northeast Asian, like Chinese, Japanese, or Korean...do you know those? No? Okay, well, then your eyes might be more slanted and your features, more...mm...angular. If you're _South_ east Asian, like Thai, Cambodian, Laotian, Filipino, Vietnamese, your eyes and features might be rounder. I say 'might' because it's not the same everywhere, but those are the general differences I notice." _God, I sound racist._

"You're Southeast?" Solas interjected before she could get to explaining cameras.

"Oh, so you noticed," she chuckled. "Yeah, Southeast. Vietnamese, to be exact."

"And yet, you speak the Common tongue pretty well, for a foreigner," Solas remarked.

"Actually, where I'm from it's called–"

"This doesn't add up," Cassandra interrupted. "There is no continent in Thedas by the name of 'Asia'. And as far as race goes, the only difference seems to be in the skin color and facial features."

Ahnnie frowned. "But isn't it the skin color and facial features that make a race?"

"Elves and dwarves like Solas and Varric classify as races. Having a different skin color does not."

The girl paled as she realized what that meant. "Cassandra...where I come from, there are only humans. No elves or dwarves; just, humans."

The three of them gave her looks that ranged from confusion to disbelief.

"There is no place called 'Thedas' either," she added a moment later.

The resulting silence was unnerving. Even Varric, who'd come across as the most outspoken of the group, did not say a word. Ahnnie wondered if the same thought was running through their heads as was going through hers: _Is it possible that I've fallen into a different world entirely?_

To be honest, it had been an underlying suspicion of hers ever since she fought her first shade. Coupled with the Breach in the sky and what little she gleaned from Cassandra about the Fade and Veil, she was starting to become a little more convinced that this place wasn't the same as the one she'd come from. And then, in no particular order, Solas healed her with light from his staff ( _magic?_ she wondered), there were too many corpses for a coincidence of any sort, and Varric was too proportionate to be a human with the medical condition of dwarfism–

So many things came together, too many factors for her to properly count, and they were slowly convincing her every second of that thought.

Cassandra led the group off the path onto ice, and for once, it wasn't because the path was ending. Rather, she seemed to purposefully make for another stone staircase cut into the side of a hill on the opposite bank. Ahnnie tensed yet again as her boot touched the frozen river, and a hand went to the hilt of her new short sword. So far, nothing. They made it to the first steps safely and began their ascent.

It was here her left hand flared again with crackling energy, making her wince. The pain didn't knock her down as it had before (that much was a relief), but it still made her face twist in discomfort.

"Shit, you all right?" Varric asked in concern.

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip as she pointedly held the marked hand away from her body. "I'm fine," she ground out a moment later.

"That thing must hurt a lot."

"It does..."

They crested the top of the stairs and Cassandra turned left towards even _more_ stairs. Ahnnie heaved a sigh of exasperation as she and the others made their way up. Varric noticed it and chuckled.

"Havin' a tough time?"

"My foot hurts."

"You're not used to a lot of exercise, aren't you?"

She blinked. "How'd you know?"

"You've worked up quite a sweat where Cassandra hasn't broken any, for one. And yes, you're pale."

Ahnnie smiled dryly. "I guess. I spent a lot of my time back home doing things like reading and drawing. I never really did all this..." She gestured vaguely at the weapon in her belt.

The dwarf nodded thoughtfully. "Say, I never got your name," Varric pointed out a moment later.

"Really?"

"Nope."

Well, she had to remedy that, didn't she? She basically told him what she'd told Cassandra, giving him the pronunciation of her real name and explaining why she used her nickname. He readily accepted it without complaint, agreeing that Ahnnie was easier on the tongue. Solas, however, was keen to hear the exact pronunciation of the real name.

"Say it again, please," he asked her.

She complied, although she didn't see how it would be useful to him especially since Varric and Cassandra had trouble with it.

The elf paused a moment, as if to register the sounds. Then, a few moments later, he said, "Diễm Anh," almost as perfectly as though he were a native.

Ahnnie had not expected that, as her gaping mouth indicated. Solas chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "It is a simple dip and rise of the vocal cords," he said. "One must be willing to be more flexible in the throat." He rubbed the middle of his neck to show them.

"That's...that's exactly how it is," Ahnnie gasped. "You're good, Solas."

"Nothing keen observation can't do."

"Ah, show-off," Varric snorted.

They came to the top of the stairs and Ahnnie was pleased to notice that her banter with the dwarf and the elf had mostly taken her mind off her pain. Still, she wondered how much farther they had to go. All this walking reminded her of why cars were invented in the first place.

"We're almost there," Solas remarked as he looked about him.

Cassandra took in the burning wagons and black scorch marks in the dirt with a grim eye. There were also a few specks in the distance that Ahnnie suspected were burning bodies and she quickly used her scarf to cover her nose.

Suddenly, Varric gave a warning cry and whipped out Bianca; a second later, an arrow was launched into the head of a shade they hadn't seen amongst the burning rubble.

When the demon died, Cassandra shook her head. "I hope Leliana made through all this."

"She's resourceful, Seeker," Varric assured her as he replaced Bianca on his back.

"Leliana?" Ahnnie asked. "Is that the lady with the purple hood?"

Cassandra nodded. "Yes. She–"

A bloodcurdling scream cut through the air. It came from a distance, down the path to the south.

The quartet quickened their pace. Even Ahnnie did her best to keep up, worried as she was. She felt a little safer knowing more people were part of the group. The farther they went, the more they could hear the faraway sounds of conflict. Soon they came up to a short set of stone stairs beneath an overhanging rock and Ahnnie's mark vibrated again. Cassandra bounded up the steps first and confirmed the girl's suspicions when she yelled, "Another rift!"

When Ahnnie reached the last step, she saw the rift for herself, hanging above two soldiers who were backing up against a gate, two shades and two wraiths cornering them. A third soldier lay face down on the ground, dark blood splattered on the snow beneath him.

"They keep coming!" one of the soldiers cried. "Help us!"

"Help is on the way," Varric exclaimed as he aimed Bianca. Cassandra ran out to attack one of the shades and Solas brandished his staff. As the elf twirled his weapon in the air, bolts of ice shot out from the tip, freezing a shade from the bottom down. It jerked fruitlessly against the ice and received a new scar from Cassandra.

Ahnnie froze before the scene, unsure of what to do. Then she saw the green wraiths spewing their magic balls, one of which briefly hit Varric, and drew up her shield. _Let's hope this works_ , she thought as she made her steady charge, for this was the first time she was initiating any action without being forced or told to. When she came close to a wraith, she ducked out of her shield and swiped her blade at it. She did the same tip-slice thing that Cassandra taught her, assuming from the shape of the short sword that it was no different from the bigger one.

The wraith fell back and she assailed it with quicker movements. Thanks to Solas' magic, she was able to move without the constraint of the wounds. This wraith was a little tougher than the one she fought before, putting up more of a fight and not dissipating when she expected it to, but after taking enough of her swipes and stabs, it poofed away into nothing.

 _I think the key is to disrupt its shape as much as possible,_ the girl thought as she made her way to the next wraith. _These things aren't very smart –_ she'd noticed that too with the shades, that the demons seemed to focus more on simply hitting without much thought to strategy – _so as long as I'm quick about it, it should be over with soon._

She tested out that theory by not only slicing at the next wraith but also 'bashing' it with her shield. Following up with a few quick sword strikes, the wispy creature was soon defeated, and Ahnnie felt a sense of accomplishment upon figuring out the secret to destroying one of these monsters more easily.

"Hurry!" Solas suddenly called out to her. "Use the mark!"

Ahnnie whirled around and saw that the shades were dead. "O-oh, coming!" She sheathed her sword and headed up to the rift. _Okay, here goes nothing._ With a cursory flex of her left hand and a steadying breath, she raised it up towards the rift...

...and after enduring that strange pulling sensation as a beam from her hand connected with the rift for about thirty seconds, it exploded and was no more.

The girl fell back onto her bum, not yet able to keep her balance against the momentum. But she'd done it; she not only took down two wraiths on her own, she'd just sealed a rift on her own too. She realized with a little bit of embarrassment that Solas didn't exactly have to hold her hand up; the sensation had been startling at first, but once she knew what was going to happen, it felt a little funny and nothing more. A tiny bit numb, and then ticklish as her nerves regained their senses. She would take it any day over a flare, that was for sure.

Solas rushed over to her, holding her up by the arm. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "It just kind of...blew me away." She turned her head toward the gate, hoping that the remaining two soldiers had made it, and noticed them staring at her wide-eyed.

"The rift is gone," Cassandra reminded them. "Open the gate!"

One of them blinked for several more seconds before scrambling to do as she ordered. "Right away, Lady Cassandra!"

As they pushed at the gates, Varric came up to Ahnnie, gesturing with his head at her hand. "Whatever that thing on your hand is, it sure is useful."

"Indeed," Solas agreed, smiling at her. "Well done."

Ahnnie supposed she could spare a small smile back. "Thanks," she said timidly, and began to rub the feeling back into her left hand. She chanced a small look at her palm as she did so and noticed a large green slash in the skin, as though she'd been wounded but nature gave it the wrong color. It slanted in a decline starting at the base of her pinky, ending at the bottom of her thumb.

She was startled by a rough touch on her shoulder and looked up to see Cassandra. "Come along," the woman urged her. "We are at the forward camp now."

"Forward...?" Ahnnie looked at the open gate and the bridge it opened up to. "Oh! So that's it!" She mentally laughed at herself when she noticed the others had already gone through. "Right, I'm coming!"

* * *

 **A/N:** Now that it's established that Ahnnie is of Southeast Asian descent, and there are no similar people in Thedas: there will be remarks made from other characters about her appearance that _might_ come across as offensive to some. But know that I am simply writing what I think would be accurate reactions from a group of people who have never seen an East-ish Asian before.


	4. Chapter 3

"We must prepare the soldiers," Leliana insisted.

"We will do no such thing," Chancellor Roderick retorted.

Leliana wasn't a woman who was amazed or surprised by much. She'd seen a lot, been through a lot, done a lot – and yet, people like the Chancellor still awed her, in a way. How could anyone be so obstinate that they would refuse to see the solution before their eyes? Didn't they know that leaving certain problems unaddressed, to fester and grow, would only make things worse? At the slightest sign of danger or uncertainty, these people always chose the safest route; or, as Leliana called it, 'ignorance'.

Regardless, she kept pressing her point. If she didn't, how would anything ever get done? It was bad enough that the explosion at the Conclave gave him more power than he was usually warranted. "The prisoner must go to the Temple of Sacred Ashes," she repeated for the third time that day. "It is our only chance!"

"You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility," the Chancellor spat.

" _I_ have caused trouble?" The edge in her voice was unmistakable.

The Chancellor, a stern man easing into midlife, scowled as he bent over a paper on the desk before him. The expression emphasized the lines of his mouth and eyes, not all of which were brought upon by age. For all his obstinacy, Leliana knew he was a man devoted to his work, often up late at night tirelessly attending to important matters.

But he was still a pighead. "You, Cassandra, the Most Holy – haven't you all done enough already?"

The corner of Leliana's eye twitched ever-so-slightly. An attack on her, she could withstand. A snide remark about Cassandra, she wouldn't worry about; the Seeker was able to fend for herself. But to speak of the Most Holy, Divine Justinia V, in such a disparaging manner – how _dare_ he. "You are not in command here," Leliana reminded him, her voice dangerously soft.

"Enough!" he snapped. "I will not have it!" But before she could respond, the Chancellor looked up from the paper and straightened his posture. "Ah, here they come," he remarked.

Leliana looked up and saw Cassandra, Solas, and Varric approaching them with the prisoner in tow. She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she saw that they had arrived unharmed, the prisoner especially – she seemed like such an inexperienced girl that Leliana was almost afraid she wouldn't make it through all the demons in the valley. _A good thing the others were with her,_ the spymaster thought.

"You made it," Leliana greeted them. Turning to the Chancellor, she began, "Chancellor Roderick, this is–"

"I know who she is," Roderick interrupted her. His tone reminded Leliana of a cranky old man. "As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!"

 _Here we go again,_ Leliana sighed.

The prisoner's face blanched beneath her helmet. "Execution?" she breathed, the fear palpable in her voice. She turned anxiously towards Cassandra. "Can he really–"

"'Order _me_ '?" Cassandra cut her off, a hand extended toward the girl signaling for her to be silent. " _You_ are a glorified clerk; a bureaucrat!"

"And you are a thug," Roderick countered, "but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry."

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor," Leliana put in coolly. "As you well know."

"Justinia is _dead_!" he snapped yet again. "We must elect her replacement and obey _her_ orders on the matter."

Leliana felt a pang of hurt as well as annoyance as the Chancellor reminded them of this all-too-obvious fact. The Divine's untimely end had struck her more than she was willing to show anyone. Still, that didn't mean he could push them all around like they were his personal servants.

"C'mon, Chancellor, have a heart," Varric spoke up. "She's just a kid." He looked over at the prisoner, rough eyes slanting in sympathy. "About how old – fifteen? Sixteen?"

The prisoner's response shocked even Leliana. "I'm twenty."

There was a small silence before Varric broke it with a chuckle. "Well, I wasn't expecting that."

"Asians tend to look young," the girl (or 'young woman', Leliana supposed, although she still looked at the childish face and thought 'girl') scrambled to explain. "So...uh...yeah..."

Chancellor Roderick's face darkened. If he thought anything of her explanation, which didn't really enlighten things, he did not show it. "It doesn't matter how old or young you are. You _killed_ everyone who was in charge!"

The girl flinched at the volume of his voice and her eyes widened in shock. "That's – That's a lie! I've never killed anybody in my life! What sort of evidence do you have to support that?"

"He's talking about the explosion," Varric supplied.

"How was that _my_ fault?" she protested. "I wasn't there! I don't even understand half the things everyone's saying about it!"

But ignoring the girl and the dwarf, Roderick turned his serious gaze upon Cassandra. "Call a retreat, Seeker," he pleaded, and his voice sounded tired. "Our position here is hopeless."

"We can stop this before it's too late," Cassandra argued.

"How? You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers."

"We _must_ get to the temple; it's the quickest route."

"But not the safest," Leliana reminded them. Her hands behind her back, she paced around the length of the table. "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains." She stopped and pointed up at the rocky face of a great mountain behind the Chancellor, and all eyes – the prisoner's especially – looked to where she indicated. "It is indirect and may take some more time than a straight charge, but it is still fast and the problem will be addressed sooner."

Cassandra shook her head. "We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It's too risky."

"But if we don't–"

" _Listen to me_ ," the Chancellor hissed, and everyone turned to him. For a moment, his severe face softened and his voice became fatherly and sad. "Abandon this now, before more lives are lost."

 _And we will lose more still, if we leave it as it is,_ Leliana thought. She once heard a saying long ago, from someone wise: _The road to hell is often paved with good intentions._ She originally thought it was about making moral decisions, but life had taught her that 'hell' could just about mean 'suffering' and 'chaos' as much as it was 'evil'.

Before she could make her point, the Breach rumbled and widened, sending a shower of meteors crashing down into the valley; the Chancellor, startled, ducked back a little as he swerved his head to regard the pulsing green pillar, glowing visibly behind the mountain Leliana had pointed to. The others did the same, even if they weren't as skittish.

And then the mark crackled. Leliana's attention immediately went to the prisoner, who was doubling over in pain. Her eyes screwed shut as she grasped the wrist of her left hand, and a hiss of pain whistled through her teeth. When the flares dispersed, she straightened up slowly, although not without a look of horror on her face as she stared at her hand.

"It's getting bigger," she whispered fearfully, and Leliana realized then that the girl had not given the mark a good look until recently.

Of course, the Chancellor was unamused; his soft expression quickly hardened as soon as he saw the flare for himself, which seemed to confirm the prisoner's guilt.

"We will charge the path with soldiers," Cassandra then said with finality. "There is no time to be wasting. We must do this, and we must do it _now_."

"We're not staying?" the prisoner suddenly asked. "I thought you said I could rest at the forward camp..."

"I said you could get your wound patched up at the forward camp," Cassandra corrected her. "But Solas has healed you, so there is no reason to further our presence here."

"You only sacrifice a little more time in ensuring your safety," Leliana pointed out, returning them to the matter at hand.

"I'm afraid we may not even have that luxury," the Seeker said softly while still looking at the prisoner. Shaking her head, she gestured for Solas and Varric to take the prisoner towards the next gate. Turning to Leliana, she instructed her to bring everyone left in the valley. "Everyone," she repeated with a heavy emphasis.

Seeing no point in arguing further, Leliana gave a quick nod and headed towards the open gate that the group had entered through. It was not always that people listened to her, but she trusted the Seeker's judgment; more so than the Chancellor's anyway. Besides, she was resourceful, and was formulating already a plan that could make this work.

As Cassandra walked by in the opposite direction, the Chancellor gave her a sidelong glare. "On your head be the consequences, Seeker," he hissed.

* * *

The initial reactions to the revelation of her age made Ahnnie feel awkward. Had this been in a normal conversation from whence she came, people might have asked her, "Why are you still with your parents? Why do you still listen to them like you're a little girl?"

 _Why do you not think for yourself before you ask?_ she would have been tempted to counter with, but never would, thanks to politeness.

Did they not think she was ashamed to have reached legal adulthood, and yet not be as the rest of her age were? That she resented her parents' overbearing hand just as much as the rest of them would? 'Parents' was, perhaps, not the best label. They were her mother and a stepfather, but what else could she address them by? Mother-and-stepdad was a mouthful. 'Parents' summed it up on one short word and was half-true, anyway.

So she would answer, with anger simmering in her veins and a mask of politeness on her face: "Oh, they're just not ready to let me go yet."

Some would come to the conclusion that it was the culture and eye her strangely – others would think of it as endearing and wish their adult children (if they had any) were as obedient to them. No one knew of the iron grip called 'fear' that chained her to her parents' whims and moved her about like a puppet. Hell, she didn't even know how to _drive_. As a result, she never felt fully adult-like. It was as though she were suspended in a perpetual state of girlhood...and she didn't make it any better by playing the helpless Cinderella, quietly studying for her degree online and turning to books and art to ignore the situation.

To say that life with them was an eternal torture would have been a lie. It was mostly normal and seemed to go on as it did for just about everybody else. But there were moments that made her doubt; moments in which she felt like an utter failure. _What is wrong with me?_ she would think during such times. _Why can't I just grow a spine and leave?_

So as shocking and infuriating as Chancellor Roderick had been, that mouse-faced man in a wimple and religious robes, it was actually kind of refreshing to hear him accuse her. The _'doesn't matter how old or young you are_ ' part, anyway. It made her feel like she could actually accomplish something on her own, independent of her insecurities.

"You all right?" Varric asked her as they trudged up the mountain.

"Hmm?" she asked. "Yeah."

"Your face says otherwise."

She shrugged. "Well..."

The dwarf gave her an encouraging clap on the back. "Don't let the Chancellor get to you. He's just acting tough."

"He can't do anything," Cassandra added. "He is just an overly-inflated scholar. Nothing more."

It heartened her a bit that the others tried to make her feel better about what they thought stemmed from the Chancellor's unwelcome demeanor. But the truth was not hers to freely tell. _They would laugh at me,_ she thought; _if they knew what I was like, they would think that I'm inadequate. I doubt that they were like me at my age._ That was, she was sure neither of them were twenty at the moment. Even if they were, they were certainly stronger than her, more certain of their destinies. _I envy them._

The jogging of the soldiers ahead served as a minor distraction from these troublesome thoughts. They had been dispatched to go along with the group back at the forward camp, taking the lead as they made sure the path was clear. She had to admire their endurance; they'd been steadily jogging ever since their departure, despite the inclining path. She would have dropped to her knees in exhaustion much sooner.

The group rounded a southern path into a westerly direction, heading up to a checkpoint camp cut into the side of the mountain. The camp was accessible by a short set of stairs, which the soldiers ran up first. Directly across the camp was a similar set of stairs leading through what was once the doorway of a stone structure; all that remained was the doorway itself and a few broken walls.

Ahnnie was glad they wouldn't be stopping at this camp; directly to the left, a Chantry sister (for that was what those women in red-and-white robes were, as Cassandra explained to her) knelt praying over an alarming amount of covered bodies. But as soon as the soldiers ahead of them poured through the doorway, a green blast sent one of them flying back onto the stairs.

He landed with a _crack_ and never moved again.

Solas took out his staff and Varric readied Bianca. Cassandra turned to Ahnnie and asked, "Is there a rift ahead?"

The girl flexed her vibrating left hand and nodded. _Demons, here we come_ , she thought, and then they ran through the doorway.

Ahnnie was able to witness the coming of the demons for the first time; the crystalline rift shot forth beams of bright green light, searing the ground where it hit. Just as it had been on her first encounter on the ice, the demons grew from those spots: three shades and three wraiths. She unsheathed her short sword and made for the wraiths. A good number of the soldiers that had accompanied them still lived, so two others were already working away at the other wraiths while the rest hacked away at the shades. Ahnnie thought she could see a soldier who she hadn't recognized, a man with big furs on his shoulders, but didn't pay much attention as she attacked her target.

The wraith soon gone, Ahnnie made to assist the others with the rest of the demons, but paused before she could run by the rift. _I should probably close it right now,_ she thought. _What if more demons come through? That'd make this more difficult for us._ She nodded as she saw the logic in this and raised her left hand towards the rift. As before, a beam bridged the gap between her hand and the rift, making it fold in on itself.

But when it exploded, it didn't disappear. It hung in the air as a thin gossamer veil of green instead, twisting and turning at the edges. A few seconds later, it bunched up on itself and returned to its previous crystalline form.

She gasped. _Wh-what?_

How could this be? The previous two rifts she'd closed had done so immediately. And was it just her, or was it shooting more beams into the ground?

The earth beneath her feet trembled. When she looked down, a circle of green light traced itself around her and the rocks trembled faster. Before she could do anything, she was suddenly propelled into the air as a long, spindly creature erupted from the ground.

She felt the sword fly from her hand before landing on a dead soldier not too far away from where she'd stood. It took her a moment to realize what she'd fallen on, but as she pushed herself up by the elbows on his chest, she found herself struggling to decide which was scarier: the corpse or the new demon?

 _I think I prefer the dead guy,_ she thought as the monster rose itself to full height; at least a corpse couldn't hurt her. This demon was not as bulky as a shade but it towered well above one, perhaps even surpassing two shades' height. Its shriek was more haunting, and as it echoed through her ears, she found herself gripped with a terror that trumped all her previous fears combined.

"A terror demon!" someone shouted. A moment later it was revealed to be Solas, who called out to her from where he stood. "Ahnnie, do not let it feed on your terror! Close the rift instead!"

"I tried to do that!" she screamed back. "It didn't close! It just–" She yelped as the terror demon swung its long arm down on her like a club. She barely managed to dodge the blow and was splattered with the dead soldier's blood as the demon's fist burst through the body like a hammer on a nut.

When she looked back up, she was even more horrified to see not one but _two_ of these demons. They walked towards her on their stilt-like legs, hissing with a poisonous vehemence that chilled her to the very core.

A bolt of ice struck one on the foot and froze its limb into place. Another followed suit on the other foot, and the demon was stuck, jerking angrily at its binds.

Solas jumped into view beside her a second later, a hand hooking under her armpit to raise her to her feet. "Just try it again," he urged. "The previous demons were more easily vanquished after you did it the first time."

"But what if it doesn't work?" she asked.

He didn't seem to have an answer for that. Instead, he pushed her out and assured her, "We will take care of the terror demons while you close the rift."

She seriously contemplated fleeing. Whether it was because the demons were feeding on her terror or she was truly more terrified than she'd ever been, all she wanted to do was to run away and hide herself somewhere safe. But then she saw the men rallying towards the demons, bolstered by a war cry from the soldier in the furs, and she realized that they were doing this so she could accomplish her task. They were risking their lives to fight against the demons, and if she just left them there to die...

She cursed herself as a fool as she sped back towards the rift. She only paused once to pick up her fallen short sword, lying several feet away from the corpse that she had fallen on; or at least what remained of it. Ahnnie gulped as she tried not to look at the bloody mess, in the middle of which was a curling red mass that must surely have been the intestines. When she faced the rift once more, she thrust her hand upwards and prayed the beam would close it for good this time.

Her left arm vibrated unstably as the rift neared completion. She grit her teeth against the pressure and pressed on, pushing her hand closer as if it could spur the process faster. When it finally burst closed (she never thought she'd use that description in her life, ' _burst closed_ ', but that was how it seemed to be), she didn't even notice it was gone until her arm was rudely pushed aside by the blast. _At least I didn't fall down this time,_ she thought.

Careful footsteps crunched on the rocks and Solas appeared by her side a moment later, eyeing the spot where the rift had been. "Interesting," he muttered. "It went through two stages before it could be closed..."

"Whaddyou think that means?" Varric inquired as he strode up on the other side of Solas.

"Perhaps in areas where the Veil is thinner, the corresponding rift is more difficult to close?" Solas shrugged. "Whatever the cause, it requires more careful research before we can reach a conclusion."

Ahnnie massaged her left hand and looked back towards Cassandra. "I hope two's the most it ever comes to," she remarked to herself and her ear quickly picked up on a conversation between Cassandra and the soldier in furs, the fight apparently over.

"...managed to close the rift? Well done."

"Do not congratulate me, Commander," the Seeker deflected. "This is the prisoner's doing."

 _They're talking about me?_ she wondered. When she saw Cassandra look at her and gesture for her to come, she hesitantly stepped forward, suddenly conscious of a smear of corpse blood on her cheek.

That was because the soldier – or rather, Commander – was looking her over with a critical eye. He had a serious, chiseled face with brushed-back blonde hair and a smattering of stubble capping his chin. His eyes, while not as severe as Cassandra's, were imposing in their own right and made her feel small. _If he wanted to, he could look gentle,_ she thought. _I guess I'm just here at a bad time._

"Is it?" he asked, his voice a smooth baritone where Varric's was rough and smoky. "I hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of people getting you here."

She didn't know what to say to that. It was obvious from his tone and choice of words that he wasn't very pleased with what was going on. Or her, for that matter. Add in the fact that people had died just so she could reach this spot, and Ahnnie felt even worse than she already did.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, before the silence became too much to take.

Yet another silence stretched on as the Commander continued staring at her. "And?" he asked a moment later, perhaps expecting her to continue.

"That's...it. I'm sorry. I didn't...well, I didn't mean for anyone to be lost because of me..."

She couldn't have worded it any lamer even if she tried. Cassandra gave her a disapproving frown, but then again, the woman always looked like she was frowning, so it was hard to tell. Ahnnie was quickly put aside at any rate when the Commander turned back to Cassandra, pointing down at the edge of the ruins. Ahnnie was surprised to see the Breach right where his finger indicated, snaking above another set of ruins directly ahead of them. _We're here already?_

"The way to the temple should be clear," he informed her. "Leliana will try to meet you there."

"Then we'd best move quickly," Cassandra responded, looking in that direction. "Give us time, Commander."

He gave her a quick military nod before wishing them well. "Maker watch over you – for all our sakes."

Ahnnie watched as he and the other soldiers made their retreat back to the checkpoint camp. Her fear of him softened when she witnessed him helping a limping soldier across the chaotically strewn rubble. _He cares for his men,_ she thought, and when she remembered his stony reception of her, she felt less intimidated by it than she had before. It was only a moment of reprieve in a dark situation, however, and she turned her attention back towards the group. _Right...we've got something bigger to worry about._ With a gulp, she walked after them.

* * *

" _Holy fuck!_ " Ahnnie screamed, falling back onto her bottom in shock. They had just reached the ruins' edge, which turned out to be a high ledge from which one had to jump down, when she saw the burnt corpses kneeling in agony on the valley floor below.

Unlike the frozen bodies she'd seen earlier, these corpses were paralyzed in their last actions, either cowering on their knees or standing and shielding their faces from something horrifying. Whatever it was, it had swept over them and burnt their skin into nothing but crispy black tissue stretched tightly over bones, mummifying them in place.

The girl's cries echoed throughout the valley several times before fading out into nothing; Cassandra, whose foot had been poised to launch herself over the ridge, whipped her head around in alarm, but scowled upon finding nothing wrong with the girl besides her horror.

Solas blinked. "Well."

Varric merely gave her an inquisitive look.

Ahnnie covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry–"

"Don't worry about it," Varric chuckled. "We can handle a few curse words."

"It's just, the corpses – are they real?" She pointed a shaky finger towards the black mummies.

"Yes, they are real." It was Cassandra this time, and she sounded less than amused. "They were one of the first victims of the explosion as it swept through the temple."

The Seeker jumped off the ledge and the dwarf and elf soon followed; when it was Ahnnie's turn, she caught the girl in her arms and set her down as gently as possible. Regardless, her left foot hit the ground a little hard and she twisted her face in pain.

"Broken toe," she ground out when she saw the confused looks of Varric and Solas. When Cassandra withdrew her arms a moment later, she looked at the stones about her, doing her best to keep the corpses at the fringe of her vision. Ahead of them, slightly to the right, was an opening to what looked like a small tunnel glowing with orange torchlight. It had the square shape of a manmade structure, so it wasn't a cave. It could have been a part of a bigger building, as indicated by the broken walls around them.

"What is it?" the girl asked, awed. Somehow, she remembered that place, and yet did not at the same time. She attributed it to some vague sense of déjà vu.

"The Temple of Sacred Ashes," Solas answered.

"What's left of it," Varric gruffly added.

"So this...this is the temple that exploded?" When Cassandra nodded, Ahnnie asked yet again, "This is where the Conclave was destroyed?"

"Yes, it is," Cassandra affirmed.

"This is where..."

"...you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you," the Seeker finished for the bewildered girl.

 _I see..._ She shook her head. "It's nothing," she assured them. "I just found it overwhelming, that I came out from here..." But then she frowned and faced Cassandra again. "Wait, wait, wait. You said I stepped out of the _Fade_? That realm of spirits and demons?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I was – I was in _there_?"

"I _did_ tell you the rifts and the Breach were tears in the Veil," Cassandra reminded her.

Ahnnie groaned, closing her eyes as though doing so could erase that horrible realization. Indeed, how could she have missed that? _Those giant spiders – they were demons!_ Or they must have been, since those were among the only two inhabitants of the place that she knew of. The thought made her feel queasy all over again.

When she reopened her eyes, she waved her hand weakly in the air before her. "Let's just get this over with," she sighed. "Maybe I'll wake up and it'll only be some horrible nightmare."

"If only things were so easy," Cassandra remarked softly, and onward they marched.

The tunnel turned out to be a short one, going in a right then left turn before it deposited them into the heart of the ruins. Ahnnie walked slowly, conscious of a pain in her left foot that hadn't been there before she jumped from the ledge. It was muffled by the thick padding Cassandra wound around her toes, but could still be felt regardless, and she worried something untoward had happened when her foot struck the stone. She pushed the thought out of her mind and looked up as they exited the tunnel, taking in the desolate scene before her.

What must have once been an impressive chamber of the temple was now a black, charred crater. Some parts still flared with heat, burning away in small patches of flame. It was a miracle any piece of the temple survived at all. Meanwhile, the Breach swirled lazily at the center of the crater, illuminating the blackened ground with a sickening hue of green, stretching on and on until she had to crane her head back to see it pierce the clouds in the sky. Even then, she suspected it went on forever, perhaps even touching the outer layers of the atmosphere.

And at the base of the Breach, jagged green edges standing out against the smoky background, was a large crystalline rift thirty or so feet from the ground.

Ahnnie came up to the remains of what was once a balcony and leaned against the railing between Solas and Varric to steady herself. _Oh my god. I have to close that thing. I have to – oh my god. Please let it just be a nightmare._

"You're here!" a mellifluous voice cried out, jarring her thoughts. "Thank the Maker."

Ahnnie whirled around to find Leliana coming through the tunnel with some soldiers behind her. Unlike before, the woman was armed with a longbow and a quiver of arrows at her back. She supposed she should be happy that more people were accompanying them, but she could only feel more grim when she thought of the amount of men it would take to assist in their endeavor. _And it doesn't look like they brought enough..._

Cassandra wasted no time on greetings or formalities. "Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple." When she nodded and went back towards the men to give them their instructions, Cassandra turned to Ahnnie and said, "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

"The...the whole thing?" Ahnnie stammered nervously, pointing up at the Breach. "All of it? Right now?"

"No," Solas corrected her. "This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

 _So just the rift,_ she thought, yet only managed to feel a tiny prick of relief.

"Then let's find a way down, and be careful."

Those words were Cassandra's, of course; Ahnnie couldn't imagine herself capable of being so determined in the face of such danger. It was also Cassandra who led the charge, taking the path to their right when no other way seemed viable. It led into what was once a corridor overlooking the heart of the temple. As they advanced, a flash like lightning pulsed through the air, making everything brighter for a second or two.

The path turned left, and when they made the turn, Ahnnie heard a booming man's voice echo against the temple's walls:

" **Now is the hour of victory. Bring forth the sacrifice**."

Cassandra was the first to remark about it. "What are we hearing?" she asked, clearly unnerved.

"At a guess, the person who created the Breach," Solas said.

They turned left yet again, and it was growing apparent to Ahnnie that they were going in a circle. On this stretch, though, growths of a strange, pulsing red crystal jutted out from the rocks that walled them in on the right.

"You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker," Varric hissed to Cassandra, a tone of fear in his voice. Ahnnie didn't like that even the most robust of their group seemed perturbed.

"I see it, Varric."

"But what's it _doing_ here?"

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it," Solas suggested.

Ahnnie's head swam in confusion. _Yet another thing I don't understand!_ "What's red lyrium?"

But rather than a full explanation, Varric just shook his head. "It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it."

This warning came when her shoulder almost touched an outreaching tip of the crystal; Ahnnie barely avoided it, swerving in time only to stumble over Varric. "Sorry," she apologized when she righted herself, and the quartet turned left once more at the top of a set of stairs leading downwards.

" **Keep the sacrifice still** ," that booming voice echoed again when they all got off the last step. They were getting closer to the bottom of the crater now, with just a few more yards before the path ended in a cut to the right.

They jumped off this cut and now stood upon the blackened ground of the crater. The rift lay before them, shifting its crystalline points as it drew power from the Breach. Ahnnie was aware of a crackling to her left and held up her hand to find it flaring again. She winced as the pain cut through her flesh, and although it was now more tolerable – perhaps even familiar – she was no less tempted to relieve herself of it through amputation.

" **Someone help me!** " a voice called out, and now that she was standing close to it, Ahnnie realized it was coming from the rift. Unlike the booming voice earlier, though, this was a woman's voice.

"Divine Justinia!" Cassandra gasped.

Before any questions could be asked, a flash of white light burst from the rift and momentarily blinded the quartet; a second later, a curtain of mist obscured the rift and a hazy scene played upon it, like a screening of a poor-quality movie.

Ahnnie blinked away the tears as her stinging eyes watched it unfold. An old woman in gilded Chantry robes was held floating in the air, at this very spot, she realized, by a bright red energy around her arms. In front of her was a dark...entity of some sort. Ahnnie couldn't see it clearly.

A brazen young man stepped into the scene, looking angrily about him. " **What's going on here?** " he demanded.

Ahnnie's eyes widened when she recognized him.

The old woman, Divine Justinia, turned towards the young man with a look of horror on her face. " **Run while you can!** " she urged him. " **Warn them!** "

But the dark entity noticed and turned towards the young man as well. " **We have an intruder** ," the entity announced, and Ahnnie realized the booming voice earlier was his. With a point of a jagged finger, the entity commanded to servants unseen, " **Kill him. Now!** "

The screen flashed and the images disappeared in the white blast that followed. Ahnnie shut her eyes against the light, eyes watering even more, and opened them a second later to see the rift as it had been.

"The Divine," Cassandra murmured, and she whirled upon the group with a sudden ferocity. "That vision! Was it true? And the Divine, is she–"

"I saw that man in the Fade," Ahnnie interrupted. "The one who ran into me. It was _him._ Oh my god, it was him..."

Cassandra went quiet for a moment. "I met him."

Ahnnie looked up at her. "What?"

"The youngest son of Bann Trevelyan, a noble house from the Free Marches..." Cassandra _tsked_ and shook her head. "I met him several days before the Conclave began. He had struck me as the rambunctious sort, and he..." She gave up explaining and sighed. "What did we just see?"

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas supplied as he studied the rift. "The Fade bleeds into this place..." Turning back to the group, he said, "This rift is not sealed but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However...opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

Cassandra confirmed Ahnnie's thoughts as she exclaimed, "That means demons. Stand ready!"

The others around her began readying their weapons. After a moment of thought, Ahnnie tentatively slid out her short sword, feeling the fear beat in her chest in time with her heart. She noticed movement from the corner of her eye and flinched as she turned to regard it; but she had nothing to worry about as soldiers suddenly poured into the crater from openings in the temple ruins on either side of them. Above her, archers stood perched on the walls, arrows nocked and aimed for whatever would emerge from the rift. _They may not be enough in number,_ she thought, _but I'm certainly glad they're here._

And so she reached her hand towards the rift, feeling the power stream out from her mark into the dark green crystal. At the same time, she wondered whether she was making a huge mistake. When the rift exploded a moment later, a bright green beam of light immediately zeroed in on the ground in the midst of a group of soldiers. After the dust cleared, a giant horned demon stepped out, roaring at the puny men who dared to face it. Its skin was rough like twisted bark and small sparks of electricity ran between its limbs and horns.

Electricity.

"Now!" Cassandra cried, and the archers loosed their arrows. A moment later, the soldiers closed in around the group and rushed toward the demon, hacking away at its legs.

Ahnnie, on the other hand, ran towards an outcropping of rocks and hid herself as she clawed away at the straps on her armor.

She tried not to listen to the electrical crackles on the demon's hide, focusing instead on the sounds of the battle and threw her helmet off her head. Then she successfully released a pauldron from her shoulder. The next came off soon after and she quickly went to work on her breastplate. She couldn't figure out how to untie its straps, however, and frantically struggled to loosen them enough to push through the armor and throw it off like a shirt. When she got to the greaves, Varric scared her with his incredulous cries. She looked up to see him backed against the outcropping, eyes wide.

"What're you doing!?" he yelled above the noise of the demon's roar. "You're gonna need that armor!"

Ahnnie flung off the last greave and got up to her feet. "Not now!" After shedding all that metal, she felt much safer from the demon, regardless of whether she was actually more vulnerable or not. She jogged past Varric, slowed herself when her foot protested in pain, and looked around to make sure the demon was nowhere near. To her relief, it was engaged in combat with the others directly across from her, its great back turned to her.

Without wasting any more time, she thrust her left hand at the rift, hoping it was one of those rifts that would close on the first go.

No such luck – the rift burst but continued to hang as a shimmering veil of light, just as it had done back at the checkpoint camp. Luckily, the disruption caused the demon to kneel in place, making it easier for the men and Cassandra to attack it.

 _Perhaps the second time will work,_ Ahnnie thought, and she waited for it to become crystalline again.

Big mistake. As soon as the rift regained its previous form, more beams of light shot out onto the ground and she found herself surrounded in a circle by half a dozen shades.

 _Shit!_ She immediately unsheathed her short sword and brought up her shield, but there was no way she could successfully guard herself against _six_ shades. For crying out loud, six! If this really was another world, then her bad luck from the previous world seemed to have followed through.

An arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself into the head of one shade, knocking down that number to five. Ahnnie looked up to see where it came from and found herself looking at one of the archers on the walls. He nodded to her, and his partner loosed another arrow; it didn't immediately kill a shade, but managed to injure it in the shoulder.

Enraged, that shade turned away to see who or what had struck it. In the meantime, the other four shades advanced on her. She backed away slowly, her shield raised before her and her sword pointed out at the demons. Arrows flew in the meantime towards the shades, striking all over their backs and sides. As they all turned in quick succession to face their invisible assailants, Ahnnie launched herself at the closest one and traced criss-cross patterns on its back with the tip of her sword. The demon whirled around to strike her, but as it left its chest open with its arms poised, she sunk the killing blow deep into its heart.

Ahnnie yanked the sword from the chest and was able to free her weapon after three such jerks. She quickly looked up to see another shade just a foot away from her face...and then a soldier's sword cut through it from behind, impaling the monster. "Are you hurt?" the soldier asked her when the demon fell away.

Ahnnie shook her head wordlessly.

"Good!" The soldier went to work on the next shade, a colleague hacking away at the last one. "Lady Cassandra ordered us to fight the demons while you take care of the rift!"

She nodded. "Right. The rift." She turned to face it again, but then paused and turned back. "Thanks, by the way!"

The soldier's face was hidden by a helmet, so she was unable to tell his expression or if he even heard her thanks. She felt better about herself, however, and turned back to the rift more heartened than she'd previously been. It felt good to have someone at her back, to know that there were others to come to her aid when she needed it. It was especially necessary with something like that ginormous demon stomping around the crater.

 _Please work this time,_ she prayed as she let loose another beam. If the first disruption yielded six shades, she was unwilling to think of what a second would bring.

Nothing this time, although Ahnnie was displeased to find that the rift _still_ wasn't closed. _If it's the key rift though, like Solas said, perhaps that makes sense._ She wished it weren't so and once again couldn't help cursing her horrible luck. It was made all the worse when she felt a booming tremor pass beneath the earth at her feet and turned to find the horned demon kneeling six feet away from her, having completed a circuit of the crater.

The girl jumped back in shock, readying her sword. Leliana came up to her with a restraining hand on her sword arm, though.

"Keep your focus on the rift," the hooded woman said, and Ahnnie felt herself relax upon hearing the musical tones of her soothing voice. "Only fight when necessary. The sooner you can close the rift, the less enemies we'll face."

"Okay," she nodded.

"But what happened to your armor?" Leliana asked with a frown. "I saw you with it a moment ago."

"I, uh...took it off..."

Ahnnie braced herself for a reprimand, but none came when the demon rose to its feet. Its hide was scored with countless strikes, but it still seemed as strong as ever, releasing an echoing bellow as it stretched to full height. Leliana nocked an arrow to her bow and let loose on the horned monster. "Focus on the rift!" she reminded the girl, and Ahnnie ducked behind her to get back to the floating green crystal that had reassembled itself once again. She thrust her left hand at the rift, her fingers benumbed by the frequent attempts she'd made.

The rift burst for a third time, leveling the demon to its knees again. Ahnnie sighed, supposing that the magic rule of threes did not apply to rifts. The crystal did seem different, however – it seemed more fragile, susceptible to cracks. Maybe that meant something. She could only hope.

The crystal reshaped itself and three shades jumped out from the beams that hit the ground. They were scattered, however, making them easier targets. None of them appeared near Ahnnie, but the giant demon was, and she was directly in its path. The ground shook with every step and the electrical crackles were too close for comfort.

She ducked out of the way and shut her hands over her ears as it let loose a whip of electricity. She pressed her hands even harder when she heard the whip hit a man and electrocute him, fighting to keep his gargled cries from reaching her ears.

When it was over, she got up and jogged in the opposite direction. She ignored the pain in her toe, actually welcoming it instead, and stopped a moment later when she felt she was of sufficient distance from the demon. She raised her marked hand again, her palm feeling absolutely sore by now, but ignored it and pressed forward. She was thrown back when the rift exploded, and allowed herself a moment of rest on her bottom as she tried to rub the ache out of her hand.

 _Four times,_ she counted. _I did it four times._ She looked across at the demon the others were fighting and saw it kneeling yet again. To be sure, she looked up at the rift and saw it in the midst of rearranging itself. _And now, I'm going to do it for a fifth time._ She had a hunch this disruption would be the last, though; the crystal was smaller and appeared to be more brittle.

A shade screamed behind her and she rolled away in the nick of time to dodge its claws. Her scarf was pinned by a claw, though, and threatened to choke her if she did not slip it over her head. When she pulled away, her neck was laid bare to the chill air around her, but she preferred that to whatever fatal wound she would have suffered beneath the shade's sharp nails. She scrambled to her feet and unsheathed her weapon again, bracing herself for the next attack.

The shade struck again and hit her wooden shield. Ahnnie swiped at it beneath its arm and was thrown back when the creature attacked with a renewed vigor. She kept to her feet as best as she could and punched with her shield in an attempt to push back at the shade; the wood connected with a large _thump_ and splintered on the shade's teeth. She lashed out with another swing, slashing deep into its belly. It retaliated with a forceful blow that nearly sent her rocking back. Meanwhile, the rift lay open, waiting for her to close it once and for all.

"Damn you!" she screamed in frustration at the shade. She was close, so _close,_ and it just had to be there! Just like everything else in her life: things were going perfectly fine, absolutely _fine_ , and then something jumped in the way. She wondered why her mark wasn't useful in blasting these creatures into oblivion as she maintained her assault, pushing against the resistance the demon offered. "Why – the – fuck – can't you – just – _stay – out – of the – way!_ "

For all her bravado, the demon still kept its stance, although it was faltering a little. Ahnnie gasped when a claw dug through her side and retaliated with angry hacks at its arm while its nails were still in her flesh. After the third strike, the arm was lopped clean off, flying uselessly to the ground. The demon roared and swiped with its remaining arm; without the balance of the other one, though, it swerved unsteadily as Ahnnie ducked and was finally rid of it with a stab in the chest.

The girl hissed as hot blood poured down her side. This wound definitely cut deeper than her previous one; she could feel it. She let the sword fall along with the demon and limped up to the rift, doubling over as she did so and yet still trying to keep up her speed, however slow it was. The rift was _right there_. So close. If anything stood in the way again...she just didn't know how she'd be able to get herself out of another altercation. To her far right, the fighting with the horned demon was still taking place. It looked as though her path was clear.

With an effort, she raised her palm towards the rift. It took a while, and her arm shook as she did so, but the mark generated the beam and connected her once more to the strange green abomination in the air.

 _I wonder if that thing that appeared in the backyard was a rift?_ she couldn't help but think as her mind began to blur. _Did that man – the youngest son of Ban? Did she say Ban? Tre-vel-eeyun – did he come out of it into my world? Or did demons rush through?_

It was taking so long. The rift felt so fragile, but still the seconds passed and it did not close! The beam continued pouring from her, seemingly sapping at her energy as well as whatever magic Solas said she had. Black hair blew in front of her eyes and she brushed it away lazily, her coordination faltering.

 _I didn't close the door,_ she remembered. _If demons exited, I forgot to close the door...I think that's better than letting the dogs face them alone, though. Maybe the door was closed after that._ She liked to think so. _Hopefully, those demons are too stupid to go up the stairs. Ti_ _ê_ _n –_ her younger sister – _should've called the cops..._ _Keep those ugly things from entering the house..._

Finally, the rift was beginning to crack. This first crack led to a second, and a third, and the crystal began to fall in on itself. Ahnnie was sure with a grim certainty that this was it; this was the end, at least for the rift. In as little as thirty seconds it would soon be over.

She lacked even the strength to yell as an explosion bigger than the ones she'd faced, shaking the temple ruins down to their very bones, blew her off her feet and threw her roughly on the stone floor. Funny how the pain never came. As a powerful gust and a burst of white light brushed over the valley, she felt it all as though in a hazy dream, the colors all drifty and wisplike. People yelled and something crashed, and then she gave in to the fatigue and closed her eyes.

* * *

 **A/N:** I didn't think it made sense for them to give the prisoner a choice on how to approach the Temple, so I just let Cassandra decide :P. Hope that works for y'all.


	5. Chapter 4

_Am I in grandma's house?_

Ahnnie sniffed the air as she burrowed deeper into her pillows and blankets. A warm orange glow pulsated behind her closed eyelids and a soft, smoky smell tickled the edge of her nose. _Someone's burning incense,_ she thought, and images of gilded gods and long-dead ancestors atop an altar flashed briefly through her mind. They slowly faded into nothing as she let herself sink back into blissful oblivion.

Two dreams later, she cracked open her eyes and frowned. _But wait – I don't go to grandma's house anymore. I don't remember these blankets, either..._

The smoke's scent transformed itself as the realization sank in, becoming the tang of burning wood and not the sweet musk of incense. Ahnnie blinked and rose her head, glaring uncertainly at the wooden wall and bookshelf directly across from her.

 _Crash!_

"Oh!" someone gasped.

Ahnnie turned her head towards the noise and found herself staring at a skinny girl; elven, she noticed when she saw the ears. She looked absolutely mortified, and with the way her arms were open about her, Ahnnie guessed that she'd just dropped something. That would explain the crashing sound.

"I didn't know you were awake, I swear," the girl apologized, her voice quivering. When Ahnnie started to rise, she took a step back, as if the drowsy human before her would suddenly leap out and swallow her whole.

 _Why is she so afraid?_ Ahnnie wondered. Rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes, she brushed unkempt hair out of her face and said, "It's okay...but, um, where am I?"

She was shocked out of her sleepiness a moment later when the elven girl fell on all fours and prostrated herself. "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing," she trembled. "I am but a humble servant."

"I...I forgive you?"

"You're back in Haven, my lady," she continued. "They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days!"

 _So it wasn't a nightmare,_ Ahnnie thought. _I'm still stuck in this place with monsters and Breaches..._ But wow. Three days? How did she manage to sleep that long?

When her left hand came up to wipe some more at her eyes, she saw the green mark for herself and noticed that it had grown to garish proportions, almost threatening to spill off the corners of her hand, but no longer flared – instead, it glowed with a steady green light. And then she remembered the Breach.

"I stopped the Breach!" Ahnnie cried in delight. "I mean, I closed the first rift!" she corrected herself. "And you say it stopped the Breach's growth?"

"Y-yes..."

Relief had never felt any sweeter. "What now?" she asked the girl excitedly.

"Lady Cassandra will want to know you've awakened," the elven girl began. "She said 'at once'!"

Ahnnie threw off the blankets and touched her sock-covered feet to the ground; cold stone chilled her toes even through the woolen fabric. "Where is she?"

"In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once', she said!"

 _Chancellor..._ and then Ahnnie remembered Chancellor Roderick. _Oh._ That took some of the wind out of her sails. "What's a Chantry?" she asked a moment later, but her question lay unanswered when a door was shut and Ahnnie looked up to see that the elven girl had run out, leaving behind the box she'd dropped.

 _O...kay...I'll just figure it out for myself, then._

She rose to her feet and winced a little at an uncomfortable pressure in her left foot. It wasn't as painful as before, though; on the contrary, it felt as though the damned toe was finally healing. Ahnnie wiggled her toes and found that the pinky and fourth toe felt like they were still buddy-bound. Also, Cassandra's makeshift padding was gone. That was good, although she wondered if whoever brought her to this place bothered changing the gauze or left it as it was?

Speaking of this place, it looked like a tiny one-room cabin constructed with wooden planks. A hearty fire roared directly to the left of the bed, and a desk and chair with papers littered over it sat by the wall on the other side. She hobbled curiously to the desk, but was sidetracked by a chest hiding in a nook between the side of the fireplace and the wall. With a flip of the latches, she opened the chest to reveal two sets of folded clothes, her orthopaedic shoe, and lengths of bandage wrapping.

 _They kept this,_ she thought incredulously as she touched the shoe. Moving onto the clothes, she realized that her pajamas were there, too. She doubted she could wear them, though; they were made of light cotton fabric, unsuitable for the harsh winter climate of... _Haven, is what that girl said._ For while there was a fire and small torches in sconces throughout the cabin, Ahnnie could still feel the chill through the stones at her feet. The air was warmer thanks to the flames, but it simply wasn't enough to wear something like her pajamas.

The next pile of clothes was something more akin to the tunic and breeches she'd worn three days ago, only this time it came along with a rustic fur coat and cap. She grabbed these and made to move back to the bed, but then remembered the desk.

 _I hope these aren't important,_ she thought as she reached for one of the papers. When her eyes scanned the words, however, she was disappointed, and maybe even a little confused, to find that she couldn't read them. They were in another alphabet entirely...like the Norse runes she'd seen in several books back home, with some different shapes.

She set the paper back down and hobbled to her bed to change her clothes. And yet before she could do so, her bladder was assaulted with an uncomfortable pressure that made her press her knees together to keep it from exploding.

 _Crap. I've been asleep for three days – of_ course _I need to pee!_

She frantically looked for a door that might seem like it led to the bathroom. Nope, there was only one door, and it looked like it led outside. Did they have bathrooms outdoors? Oh, how could they do this to her?

And then she spotted it: the chamber pot.

 _No. Just, no._

She wasn't ignorant. She knew her history. She _loved_ history. All her life, she devoured books on history, culture, and civilizations – she knew a chamber pot when she saw one. It was hard to dismiss it as anything else; a large ceramic hybrid between a pot and a bowl, just sitting there on the ground. Unless it was a spittoon, and considering that she had no tobacco chewing habits...or that this place had something like tobacco to chew, per her assumptions...

She finished her business quickly and put the chamber pot behind her, thinking how unfortunate the poor sap who had to clear it out must be. Was it that elven girl, by any chance? If so, Ahnnie could only muster a small amount of pity, for there was no way she was going to do it herself. The thought was revolting.

Once she was back by the bed, she slid her woolen nightshirt off and felt a binding tightness around her ribs; when she looked down, she found bandages wrapped around her latest injury. _No magic?_ she wondered as she remembered how Solas had healed her. Then she thought of how...awkward, it would be for him to do so while she was unconscious, so she let it pass. The bandages looked clean and she felt nothing from it, anyway. Then after pulling on a breast strap (the medieval equivalent to a bra, she supposed), she got herself into her new tunic and thick leggings before wrapping herself up in the fur coat.

Ahnnie found a brush on a table by the foot of her bed and worked the knots out of her hair before plopping the fur cap on top. _Nice and snug,_ she remarked. A wash basin was also on the table, so she gave her face a quick wipe and swished a bit of the water in her mouth, spitting it out onto the stone. She next grabbed a pair of boots lying nearby and put them on before she could forget. When she straightened, she felt ready for whatever lay outside.

 _It'd better not be any demons,_ she hoped jokingly as she walked to the door and pushed it open...

Quite the contrary. It was a long queue of soldiers lining the path, standing in reverent salute to her with their fists pressed over their chests, like they were doing a fisted pledge-of-allegiance to the flag. Crowds of townspeople stood behind them, murmuring amongst themselves as their eyes all turned on her.

 _Uh...what?_

Ahnnie must have stood there a while with her mouth open, because the soldier closest to her walked up the steps to where she stood and saluted her. "My lady. Lady Cassandra wishes to speak with you and mentioned that your foot was hurting – would you like an escort?"

"I...where?"

"To the Chantry, my lady."

"What is that?"

The soldier paused, as if unable to explain, and then pointed up a little ways to the left. "It's just over there, my lady." He proffered his arm a moment later, like a suave gentleman.

She blinked, still unable to believe what was happening. "Um, it's okay...I can walk. My foot feels better."

"Are you sure, my lady?"

 _Please stop calling me that._ To him, she just nodded.

"Very well." He withdrew, but not without some hesitance.

The girl looked uncertainly at the crowd about her before making her descent. Dozens of eyes tracked her every move, and while it wasn't in anger like last time, it was no less discomfiting. The atmosphere was so nerve-wracking that she found herself counting the steps to keep from looking at all the curious faces. _One, two, three, four, five..._ She was dismayed to find no similar distractions down the path, the people's whispers growing too loud and obvious in her ears.

"That's her. That's the Herald of Andraste. They said when she came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over her."

"Why did Lady Cassandra have her in chains? I thought Seekers knew everything."

"It's complicated; we were all frightened after the explosion at the Chantry."

"It isn't complicated. Andraste herself blessed her."

"Indeed! Her skin is of pale gold – she is clearly Andraste's chosen!"

Ahnnie frowned.

"I've never seen someone like that before..."

"Ah, but she looks so young. Poor dear."

"Maker be with you." It took a while for her to realize that this last one was directed at her. She turned in the direction from which she heard it.

"Blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste!" another person called out to her.

Ahnnie turned back around, her head swimming with questions. _What are they talking about? Who is this On-drahs-tay? And didn't they hate me three days ago?_

The path turned left and led her to a bigger stone staircase. She sighed in relief to find no soldiers flanking the stairs and made her way up, but a soldier broke from the line regardless and held her by the elbow as she ascended.

"I'm fine, really," she kept on insisting, but he never left her side until she reached the top. She shivered as she walked as far away from him as possible. Directly overhead, accessible by another set of stairs to the left, stood a moderately sized stone building carved in ornate fashion, like a church or gilded town hall. It was the fanciest building here, at any rate; the others were just wooden cabins like her own, or measly tents.

 _The Chantry?_ she guessed. It must be so; it looked important. There were Chantry sisters and brothers standing outside it, further confirming to her the building's identity as the 'Chantry'. She frowned as she made her way towards it, somehow finding it familiar. She looked briefly at the impromptu camp set up in front of the building to see if Cassandra might be there, but when she didn't see the Seeker, she continued towards the doors, recognizing them the closer she came.

 _This is where I was imprisoned!_

She paused in her steps and looked back towards the town; yes, this was the view she had when Cassandra led her out! She was amazed she hadn't realized it sooner. And now Cassandra was expecting her to return to that very building?

 _Everyone seems to like me now,_ she thought, _and the Breach stopped growing...perhaps it's for something else? She's wouldn't throw me back in prison, right?_

Turning back around, Ahnnie pursed her lips tight as she came up to the door. A bright yellow sunburst with what looked like an eye in the middle was painted over the wood. She looked at it and thought of the Illuminati symbol.

A Chantry sister, recognizing her, pushed the doors open with a smile and a nod. "Go in peace, Herald of Andraste," she said.

"Maker watch over you," another one chimed in.

Ahnnie nodded at them. "You too," she said in an attempt at politeness, and stepped inside.

She was immediately engulfed in a dimly lit hall, carpeted in the middle with a long rug of dark green and decorated with little clusters of candles on the floor in front of pillars that lined the hall on either side. Red wall hangings sporting the yellow sunburst peeked out from between the pillars, and as the sweet scent of the candles wafted up into her nostrils, Ahnnie was struck with the sense that this was a religious building.

 _A religious building with a prison below it,_ she thought sullenly.

At the end of the hall was a door flanked by impressive stone pillars and crowned with a bigger hanging of the yellow sunburst. Ahnnie walked up to it, thinking it must be where Cassandra was waiting. She was proved wrong when she went by a similar door to her right and heard the Seeker's muffled voice – along with the Chancellor's – arguing from behind.

Her head went from the door at the end of the hall to this door tucked away on the right. _I thought it was...oh, whatever._ She steeled herself for the upcoming confrontation and pulled open the door.

Cassandra, Leliana, and the Chancellor were standing by a long table; Cassandra and Leliana to one side, the Chancellor to the other side. The physical gap between them was enough to tell Ahnnie that the mood was not pretty, never mind their faces. As she went past the guards standing sentinel inside the room, she felt their eyes turn sharply to her and flinched.

"Chain her," Roderick ordered, his voice booming against the stone. "I want her prepared for travel to the capital for a trial."

The guards moved behind her and Ahnnie's heart sank when she remembered Cassandra saying there would be a trial. _So I'm going to be imprisoned again,_ she thought. How else were they going to keep her before she would be judged?

"Disregard that, and leave us," Cassandra negated.

The guards saluted the Seeker with that fist pledge of theirs and walked away, closing the door behind them.

Ahnnie turned to Cassandra with what must have been an obvious expression of relief and gratitude on her face. The Seeker only made brief eye contact with her before breaking it off to face the Chancellor again.

And he was not happy. "You walk a dangerous line, Seeker."

Cassandra rounded the table to come up to him. "The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat," she said, challenging him with her sharp glare. "I will _not_ ignore it."

Chancellor Roderick did not back down, meeting her gaze with an equally incensed one of his own.

"Um, excuse me?" Ahnnie's timid voice cut through the tension.

They turned to her.

"If I may say something..." She focused on the wall past their faces in a semblance of looking at them, and continued, "I have no idea what's going on. I'm not sure if you were told yet, Chancellor, but I was whisked away from my home by this green light after it tried to attack my dogs. A rift, I think. Thing is, I don't think that this place I came _to_ is the same as the place I came _from_." She sighed. "What I mean is...I think I'm from another world entirely."

The Chancellor scoffed. "Preposterous," he muttered.

"Please, listen to me," she begged. "I know it sounds like I'm trying to make excuses, but I came out from the Fade, from another place, at that – how could I have caused the explosion?" She looked towards Leliana. "This Conclave, you must have a guest list or something for it. I don't look like anyone who was invited to come there, right?"

Leliana frowned, shaking her head.

"In fact, I don't look like anyone from this place at all!" She was not very sure about that yet, but pressed on with it anyway since it seemed as though the inhabitants of wherever-this-was thought she looked strange. "And this thing on my hand? I know even less of that. At least I know how I got here! But how _this_ got here–" She held up her left hand, showing them the mark. "I have absolutely no clue. And you can't say it caused the explosion," she quickly added before Roderick might make a connection, however erroneous it would be.

"A very... _interesting_ argument," the Chancellor said after a while. "And yet you have little to show for it besides the fact that you were the only survivor...a convenient result, insofar as you're concerned."

"You don't have solid evidence that clearly links me to the explosion, either."

His frown deepened. "But the Breach is still in the sky; for all we know, you intended it this way. I'm sure the Trevelyans will want to know what has become of their son as well."

Ahnnie fought to keep her head straight. _How did he know of that? I thought only Solas, Varric, and Cassandra heard it..._ but it might have been recorded in a report somewhere made by one of the soldiers accompanying them, or Cassandra herself. Still, he wanted to pin that on her? What else would he accuse her of?

"Have a care, Chancellor," Cassandra cut in before the girl could say something, a sharp edge in her voice. "The Breach is not the only threat we face."

Leliana picked up on this chance to speak. "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live." Her steely blue eyes cut through the Chancellor's as she uttered this last point.

He was infuriated. " _I_ am a suspect?" he spluttered.

"You, and many others," Leliana confirmed.

His mousy face twisted into a scowl. "But _not_ the prisoner," he snarled, casting an angry glare Ahnnie's way.

"It is as she said – she does not fit the description of anyone sent to attend the Conclave."

"So her survival, that _thing_ on her hand, and the Trevelyan's son's disappearance...all a coincidence?" The Chancellor sounded disgusted. "How are we to know she's not a demon from the Fade, influencing us all?"

"Providence, Chancellor," Cassandra argued. "The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."

Ahnnie fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable. "So...am I still a suspect, or am I innocent?"

"You were exactly what we needed, when we needed it," Cassandra responded. "A demon would not have saved us – but you did." She gave the girl an acknowledging nod and Ahnnie thought of her wounded side, remembering what it took to stabilize the Breach. Perhaps that, as well as the other dangers she faced that day, earned her a good impression in the Seeker's eyes.

"The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it," Leliana added.

But the Chancellor would not hear of it. "This is _not_ for you to decide," he spat.

Cassandra, ignoring him, walked over to a table in the corner and picked something up in her hands. When she came back, she slammed a thick tome on the table in front of them and the noise made Ahnnie jump. The Seeker jabbed it with an imperious finger, challenging the Chancellor yet again with a hard stare. "You know what this is, Chancellor?" She paused to let the question sink in, before continuing, "A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."

The Seeker straightened up and strode confidently towards the Chancellor, forcing him back the more she spoke. "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order, with or without your approval." When she finished, she was inches away from his face, staring down on him as though he were an inconsequential subordinate. And he was taller than her.

 _I hope I'm never at the other end of that stare,_ Ahnnie thought as she watched the Chancellor make his silent retreat. He aimed a last withering look at her, but she pretended not to notice.

Leliana came up to the book, staring reverently at its dark leather cover, framed in a silvery metal and decorated with a metallic sunburst in the middle. "The Divine's directive," she remarked softly. "Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who would stand against the chaos." She looked up purposefully at Ahnnie. "We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support at our side."

"But we have no choice," Cassandra interjected. She, too, turned to Ahnnie. "We must act now...with you at our side."

Though Ahnnie knew nothing of what was going on, she couldn't help but feel that a burdensome responsibility was being placed on her shoulders. Her confusion threatened to overwhelm her; she opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again. "I still have no idea what's going on," she said at last. "The Conclave, the Breach, templars, mages, Chantry, and now the _Inquisition_ –" That word was all the more ridiculous to her when she thought of the Spanish Inquisition. "–if someone could explain this to me, it'd be much appreciated."

"Certainly." And Cassandra gave her a summary that, had it been recited under normal circumstances, would have sounded like the synopsis of a movie:

Their world, Thedas, was split in a war between templars and mages. Mages were usually kept in towers called Circles, connected under the unifying title of Circle of Magi, and the templars were an order of knights that watched over them. This was because mages drew their power from the Fade, which made them particularly susceptible to demonic possessions that could turn them into abominations of destructive capacity, if corrupted. The war started when the mages rebelled and declared the Circle of Magi separate from the Chantry, becoming apostates; or in simpler terms, rebel mages. The Conclave was the Divine's attempt to restore peace between the two factions, and leaders from both sides had been present. Ahnnie already knew how that ended.

As for the Chantry, it was the dominant religious organization in Thedas. The more Cassandra explained it, the more Ahnnie thought it similar to the Vatican from her world. The Chantry's main holy text was the Chant of Light, a series of teachings written by Andraste, bride and prophet of the Maker. That seemed to be in sync with the Holy Bible and some mix of Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and God. At its head was the Divine, an authority figure not unlike the Pope, except that this religion seemed to work in reverse: Divines were predominantly women. In fact, it was more of the custom for Chantry priests to be women. Men could still hold other important roles, however, as Chancellor Roderick seemed to prove. As to how the Chantry tied in with the templars and Circle of Magi, the Templar Order was a military order of the Chantry and the Circle of Magi was – or had been – governed and monitored by the Chantry.

"Do you understand now?" Cassandra asked when she was done.

Ahnnie nodded. "But do I _have_ to...to do this?" she asked a moment later, her hand gesturing futilely at the tome on the table.

"You can go, if you wish," Leliana said. "But while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty. You are also not familiar with Thedas...so as you can see, the Inquisition can help you."

She hadn't necessarily been thinking of running away, more like _not_ accepting the burden of what sounded like ending a war in addition to sealing the Breach (a war, for God's sake!), but Leliana had a point. Ahnnie would need to stay with the Inquisition, whether she liked it or not, because she couldn't fend for herself otherwise. It sounded like an unsavory parallel to her life back home.

Cassandra suddenly came over to her and she looked up, wondering what the Seeker was going to say. "It will not be easy if you stay," she admitted, "but you cannot pretend this has not changed you." Well, that was true. And just as suddenly, she extended a hand towards the girl, like she was asking for a handshake. "Help us fix this...before it's too late."

Ahnnie stared awhile at the woman's gloved hand. Unlike home, the Inquisition sounded like a good chance to do things free of the veil of terror she had always lived with. The people she'd met...who she'd fought beside...they were different from her mother and stepfather. They were _honorable_. But then she frowned, remembering how they had imprisoned her and how she was still at their mercy. What if things went well, only to sour later? What would she do then?

Her hand slowly slid towards Cassandra's, and when their palms connected, the Seeker grasped it firmly and gave a single hearty shake. The gesture was supposed to be encouraging and reassuring; but as Ahnnie withdrew her hand, she prayed she would not end up worse than she was...that she would become more than she hoped, instead of fall even farther down her abyss.

* * *

Ahnnie attacked the food with a ravenous gusto she never thought was possible in her. The moment she had entered the Singing Maiden, situated on the western edge of Haven, her stomach grumbled when the smell of hot food hit her in the face like a rushing wall. As Varric led her over to an empty table for two, her knees weakened as she remembered she hadn't eaten ever since she came to this world; er, _Thedas_. Perhaps whoever had been tending to her while she was still unconscious nourished her with broth, but it was hardly the sustenance her stomach was growling for now.

She was amply rewarded when a serving girl laid out a nice, big bowl of mutton stew and a roll of hardened bread in front of her. For drink, she stated that water was good, and kept it close at hand. As for Varric, he had been content with simply a mug of ale – when she asked him if he was hungry, he shook his head and said he'd already eaten.

"Hey, slow down," he chuckled as she shoveled spoonfuls of stew into her mouth. "You don't want them saying the Herald saved Haven only to choke on a piece of mutton, do you?"

She heaved a giggle through her full mouth, swallowed, and rinsed it down with some water.

Varric grinned. "That's what I thought." A moment later, his smile straightened, and he sighed. "So...now that Cassandra's out of earshot, are you holding up all right? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day."

Ahnnie ate another spoonful of stew before replying. "I don't really know. I now know why there was a Conclave and what a Chantry is, but..." She frowned. "I don't really think I have a choice."

"Sure you do."

"No, I don't." She sighed. "I guess I should just be glad I'm still alive."

Varric chuckled again. "I still can't believe you survived _Cassandra_. And you even threatened legal action against her! You're lucky you were out cold for most of her frothing rage."

Ahnnie blushed as she remembered her 'threat'. "Eheh," she chuckled nervously.

"'Course, she wasn't angry at _you_." Varric took a swig at his ale and gave a breathy sigh of satisfaction when he set down the mug. "But what I would've given to witness that moment." He shook his head, as if he had missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime.

 _It was scary,_ Ahnnie thought, remembering the expression on the Seeker's face. She pushed it away with more spoonfuls of stew interspersed with dips of the bread, and when the bowl was almost empty, she stopped using her spoon to sop it all up with the bread instead. "So, Varric," she began, one side of her mouth chewing the stew soaked bread, "you're not a prisoner anymore, right? What were you a prisoner for, anyway?"

He shook his head. "Nope, I'm a free man now. As for my crime..." He chuckled. "Cassandra wanted to know a little something about a good friend of mine. Thought he'd be useful to the Divine for the Conclave, but that's not important now," he dismissed with a wave. "At least, not anymore."

"Oh." She took some time to digest the information before asking, "Does this mean you'll be leaving?"

The dwarf arched an eyebrow at her. "Is that a hint of sadness I hear?" he teased, a smile cracking on his face.

Ahnnie gave a helpless shrug. "Well, I just...I mean...that's what you would do, right? Now that you're free to go." _That's what I would've done, if I were able to._ At the same time, she was loathe to see him leave – he was the warmest person she'd met since coming to Thedas. The moments when he inquired after her during their trek to the Breach did not go unforgotten. Plus, his jokes were funny. If she was going to go through with this new responsibility of hers, she would love it if someone like him were close by.

He studied her a moment, a hand absentmindedly swirling the ale around in the mug. Then, he said, "I like to think I'm as selfish as the next guy–"

"Oh, I wasn't saying you were selfish," Ahnnie quickly apologized.

Varric waved it away lightheartedly. "Hey, no offense taken. But anyways, thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there's a hole in the sky; even I can't walk away and just leave that to sort itself out."

Ahnnie nodded, hiding her embarrassed face by taking a drink from her cup. _I suppose he's right,_ she thought. Despite that, she wished she didn't have to be burdened by this sudden new duty. She wished...damn, she didn't even know what she wished for. Did she wish the light in the backyard had not tried to harm her dogs? That it would've gone and left her to live as she'd always been? Or that she could come to this world...but live in it without a care to anyone else? A perfect escapist dream.

 _Nonsense! I want to go home...right?_

The stirring of a stringed instrument suddenly tinkled in the air; Ahnnie looked up and saw a dark haired woman taking up a stool by the fireplace, a lute held skillfully in her arms. She played a little melody before opening her mouth to sing a song, a song so soft and light it was like a lullaby. The woman's voice flowed perfectly between the notes, rising and falling in accurate timing to the rhythm. Her song filled Ahnnie with a sense of nostalgia for better times. It was a song of kingdoms and peace, a people unafraid of the darkness; of keeping the Fade from their lives, and holding together a fragile sky.

Ahnnie did not miss the references to the Breach. Even if they weren't originally meant for the song, they were too hard to dismiss, especially in this time. The Breach may have been stabilized, but Ahnnie still saw green lights in the clouds where it was supposed to be. Cassandra and Leliana very prudently repeated this fact back at the Chantry, as well.

Varric noticed the morose expression in her eyes and turned to the singer. "Maryden, are you trying to sing us to sleep, or what? Here's a coin for ' _Andraste's Mabari_ '. Keep it lively, y'hear?"

A shimmering object was flicked from the dwarf over to the bard, who caught it in a deft fist. "Whatever you say, Master Tethras," Maryden winked, and started up her lute again in a more plucky tune.

Ahnnie listened to the first stanza (quite a humorous one about a dog, as she found out a few lines in) before turning to Varric with a smile. "Thanks."

"Always happy to help," he said as he raised his mug and drank again.

Ahnnie also drank from her cup, and was suddenly aware of a group of patrons joking about something from the table behind her. She would not have paid attention had they not said 'Herald of Andraste', the moniker she'd come to know as her new title amongst the people. It sounded as if they were joking _to_ someone rather than about her, though; Chancellor Roderick was the only person who still despised her, so that was unlikely. Curious, she turned her head slightly in that direction, wondering what the fuss was all about.

She found herself facing a wide-eyed little girl, no older than five, who jolted when their eyes met.

The patrons laughed at child's skittishness, although it was in a more affectionate tease than a derisive mirth. Varric peered over Ahnnie's shoulder to see what was going on and raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you've got a fan," he remarked.

Ahnnie opened her mouth to say something, shut it when she was unable to think of anything, and turned to the little girl. "Hi there," she greeted. "What's your name?"

The child shyly brushed away a messy lock of light brown hair. "Netta," she murmured, her blue eyes twinkling with a mix of awe, disbelief, and delight.

"What a pretty name," Ahnnie smiled. "How old are you, Netta?"

"Five."

"Five! Wow, what a big girl you are!"

Bolstered by Ahnnie's friendliness, Netta smiled back and slowly stepped towards her. "Is it true?" she then asked.

"Is what true?" Ahnnie asked back.

"That you're made of gold?"

She could hear Varric stifling a laugh behind his mug of ale. Before she could debunk this myth, however, the dwarf was leaning over to the child with a mischievous grin on his face. "Oh, not just that; her eyes are of the finest Antivan glass, her teeth of the whitest pearls from the Waking Sea, and her nails the thinnest films of Nevarran crystals you've ever seen."

Netta's eyes sparkled with an even greater amazement and she gave a gasp of awe when she turned back to look at Ahnnie.

"N-no, he's just joking!" she quickly deflected. "I'm just a regular human. Like you." When the child didn't seem to believe her, she held out a hand – the unmarked one – for her to touch. Netta brushed it lightly with her small fingers, as if afraid that Ahnnie would crumble if she poked too roughly.

"Oh, Netta!" A short haired woman came up to the table, hands on her hips. "You know better than to bother our guests. And the Herald of Andraste, at that!"

Ahnnie shook her head. "Oh no, she wasn't a bother. And, um, my name is Ahnnie. Not Herald of–"

"C'mon, live a little," Varric teased with a fist to her arm. "The people love you now! Save the modesty for later."

Ahnnie blushed, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. "That's..."

The short haired woman chuckled. "There's no denying what you've done for us all – but if you insist. I'm Flissa, the innkeeper. I trust you and Master Tethras have had an enjoyable time? Netta wasn't too much of a nuisance?"

"You can't blame the little tyke," Varric put in. "By the day's end, she'll be hearing about how the Herald single-handedly brought down two terror demons and a giant pride demon, _and_ saved an entire troop of soldiers on the mountain pass in one fell swoop."

Ahnnie stared at him in open-mouthed shock. "I did _not_ do all that!"

Varric shrugged. "But that's what people will say. Or have said; they're probably a step ahead of me on that point. Ever heard of legends where you come from? How else d'you think they come into existence?"

She shook her head with an exasperated sigh, to which Flissa chuckled again. "We're doing good," she said at last to the innkeeper. "The food was delicious; the best I've ever eaten in my life." Probably because she was so hungry, but there was no denying that it was truly good.

"Osbert will be glad to hear that," Flissa remarked with a nod. "You've him to thank for your meal." Turning to Netta, she said, "Run along now. Old Osbert's got some scraps you can go give to Lady; it's her suppertime, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mama!" And just like that, Netta rushed out of view, ducking past the counter and into the kitchens.

Ahnnie watched her fondly, a tiny smile crinkling the edges of her eyes. "Your daughter's so adorable," she said to Flissa.

"Ah." Flissa shook her head. "She's not mine. I adopted her."

"Oh."

"Her parents were lost in the Mage-Templar war a year back. She was brought here by relatives fleeing the chaos...they died as well some months ago from disease, so I took her in. Hasn't stopped calling me 'mama' ever since."

Ahnnie grew quiet, wondering what that experience must have been like for the child.

"These are troubling times," Varric remarked.

"Indeed," Flissa agreed. She heaved a sigh, as if to release the sadness, and perked up a moment later. "Well, I shan't bother you any longer; is there anything you might need? More ale for you, Master Tethras?" She hailed a serving maid over when he nodded and turned back to them. "Don't worry about this; it's on the house."

"Nah, c'mon, Flissa – you know I can't do that," Varric protested.

"No, no, I insist. For the Herald; er, Ahnnie." She smiled at the girl, who quickly balked.

"I'm sor–"

But Flissa cut her off with two fingers towards her lower face. "You needn't apologize. It's an honor."

And so the verbal tug-of-war between innkeeper, dwarf, and flustered girl commenced. Apparently, it was so humorous that some of the other patrons stopped in their merrymaking to watch it unfold, though perhaps it was more out of curiosity about the dwarf and the girl than any of the negotiations. In the end, Flissa got to treat them, Varric was able to pay for his second round of ale, and Ahnnie was left promising she'd somehow pay it all back...even though she was technically broke.

In the midst of the pandemonium, they did not notice little Netta scurrying out of the kitchen and up to their table, a bowl of scraps in her hands. Ahnnie was only alerted to her presence when she felt a gentle tug on her coat, and turned to look.

"Would you like to come feed Lady with me?" Netta asked her sweetly.

"Oh, for Andraste's sake – Netta!" Flissa chided. To Ahnnie, she apologized, "I'm sorry about this. Lady's a dog we took in some time ago. Netta shows her off every chance she gets, but this is the first time she's asked anyone to help feed her."

Ahnnie waved the matter away. "It's all right. I like dogs. If you don't mind, Varric?"

The dwarf shook his head. "Who am I to stop the Herald of Andraste?"

The only quip she had to that was an exasperated look before she rose from her chair to follow the little girl. "I'll be quick," she assured Varric, and was led across the tavern towards a side door, which she held open for Netta in consideration of her full hands. She was aware of the stares that followed her as she went by, but placed her focus on Netta instead. They were out in the cold for a brief moment before entering a small stable, dimly lit by a lantern hanging on the wall. Ahnnie almost choked on the overwhelming scent of horse and breathed through her mouth instead.

An older man whom she guessed was the ostler made to greet Netta with a smile, but paused with widened eyes when he saw the black haired girl behind her. Luckily, he made no fuss about the 'Herald of Andraste' and they were left in peace to enter a stall on the far left. There was no need to open the stall door, for it was already opened, and revealed a medium-sized brown dog lying in the center of the straw, breed unknown.

 _A mutt, maybe?_ Ahnnie thought as she watched the dog stand up to greet Netta enthusiastically. The dog, or Lady, looked like one to her, but Thedas being a different world, one could never be too certain.

Lady greeted Ahnnie next, and she couldn't help but smile as she scratched behind those floppy brown ears. Ah, dogs; their bright, innocent eyes never failed to charm her. A second later, Lady was down on her back, exposing her belly for a rub, and Ahnnie happily reciprocated.

"Silly Lady!" Netta giggled. "It's time to eat now!"

As if on cue, Lady rolled up and stared longingly at the bowl, whining softly. The little girl set the bowl in front of her head and backed away as the dog tucked in, a little hand placed on Ahnnie's arm to indicate that she should do the same.

"Mama says you must never stand too close to a dog when it's eating," Netta warned.

 _Smart kid,_ Ahnnie thought. _Although it would be better for her if Lady was trained against food aggression._ She decided to make a mental note of that, to see if she could help in some way later. She had experience in that regard. Almost immediately, she remembered Bilbo. _Man, was he a tough cookie!_ Akitas – American Akitas, specifically – were known for being protective over their food. When Bilbo was discovering solid food for the first time, he displayed the expected tendencies: stiff postures, bared teeth, throaty growls.

While she had never been able to train him out of food aggression between other dogs, she was able to break him out of that habit with humans (or at least, the humans that fed him). She not only managed to sit close to him while he ate, but also touch his food and even yank it away without complaint. But that was a young puppy; Lady looked like a full grown dog. It might take time for her to come to that point, or even not at all. _But if I can make her simply_ more _accepting than she is right now..._

The more she thought of it, the more Bilbo's furry face popped up in her mind. Then she thought of how far away she was from him, and her heart clenched. _I'd hoped I could still visit him since Tennessee isn't far from Georgia. But now...I don't even have his parents nearby to comfort me..._ _  
_

"Do you like dogs?" Netta's little voice asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Ahnnie turned to her, smiling. "Yes – in fact, I _love_ them. They're my favorite animal."

Netta giggled. "Mine, too!"

"Really? I guess we have something in common, then."

The expression on Netta's face indicated to Ahnnie that the little girl was on cloud nine. "Do you have a dog, too?" she squealed a moment later, barely unable to contain her excitement. When Ahnnie nodded, she looked about ready to burst with joy.

"I have two," Ahnnie then said, her voice trembling a little from trying to contain an amused chuckle. "Big dogs." She indicated their height with her hand, which made Netta gasp because it meant those dogs' heads reached well up to the little girl's chest. "A female and a male, Cixi and Cao-Cao."

" _Suh-shee_ and _Cow-cow_?" Netta giggled. "What silly names!"

"Well, did you know those're the names of a famous empress and warlord where I come from?"

Netta giggled even harder, but Ahnnie couldn't blame her.

"Cixi was dowager empress of China in the nineteenth century," Ahnnie went on. "Cao-Cao"–although she had to admit, her pronunciation of his name was wrong. It was actually _Tsao-tsao,_ but her family stuck with a hard 'ck' pronunciation that little Netta twisted as a soft 'c'–"was warlord and Chancellor of the Eastern Han Dynasty in the two-hundreds."

It didn't surprise her that the little girl had no clue of what she was talking about, but before any further questions could be asked, Lady stepped back from the bowl and allowed Netta to pick it up. Ahnnie straightened up accordingly, giving Lady one last pat on the head before following Netta back into the tavern. As the snow fell, she released a breathy sigh of vapor and closed her eyes for a moment. _Cixi, Cao-Cao, Bilbo...god, do I miss you guys._ Seeing Lady reminded her so much of them, even though they were different types of dogs altogether. The eyes were the culprit. They were round, and deep, and dark...just like her dogs'. It was ironic how she'd been through the Fade and fought demons, and yet the things that should haunt her most were Lady's big saucer eyes.

When they came back inside, Netta was called away by Flissa to keep her out of the way. The innkeeper also mentioned it was nearing the child's bedtime, but Ahnnie suspected it was still because she was afraid of imposing on the 'Herald's' time. Ahnnie sat back down with Varric anyway and his lively banter cheered her up, making her forget that gnawing sadness for a moment. He told her stories of what sounded like his own previous adventures, but they sounded so outlandish that even she, with what she'd been through, had a hard time believing them. Still, it was all in good fun. She retired to the one-room cabin that night, her belly full and her limbs warmed by the bright fire – freshly stoked, she'd noticed. But she spent a better part of the night lying awake, thinking. It was only until her eyelids grew so heavy they closed on their own, without her even knowing, that she was able to get some rest.

* * *

 **A/N** : I wasn't sure about posting lyrics from a video game song (y'know, site guidelines and all), but in case you were wondering, it was "Once We Were".


	6. Chapter 5

"Almost done. Just a bit more, my lady." A second later, the new bandage was tied firmly to her ribcage. "There we go." The elven girl drew back with a smile of accomplishment and Ahnnie let her shirt down.

"Observations of the wound?" Adan the healer asked; he sat at the desk with his back to the girls, scribbling away at a piece of parchment.

"Clean, Master Adan," the elven girl reported. "The elfroot poultice is working wonderfully. I shouldn't give this wound any more than another week."

Adan nodded. "And you, lady Herald? How are you feeling?"

"Perfectly fine," Ahnnie replied. "A little sore in the back, but I'm okay. No fevers, sore throats, fatigue...nothing."

The healer nodded again. "That sounds very promising." When he finished writing, he rose his head and turned to look at Ahnnie. "I was almost afraid you wouldn't make it, my lady. You were clammy to the touch and thrashing constantly in your sleep...Blessed be the Maker for your swift recovery."

She smiled. "It's because I had a competent healer like you at my side. So, thank you, for all that you've done."

"Ah, but it is the Maker's will that I should have succeeded. More people have expired under lesser circumstances."

"...I suppose."

Adan turned back to write some more, and when he finished, he rose to his feet and indicated for the elven girl to follow him. "That should be all for today, my lady. I would advise you to stay off your feet to aid in the healing process of your toe, as well as to avoid catching unwanted chills. The weather is particularly harsh this morning."

Ahnnie had been aware of a snowstorm blowing through the town in the early hours of the morning; a while after she'd fallen asleep, she was awakened again by the fierce howling wind and an even fiercer chill that whistled through the wood. It had already stopped by the time Adan and his assistant came, though, so she saw no harm in venturing out. Besides, she wanted to talk to Cassandra about something.

"I will be out for just a bit," she assured the healer. "I only have a few questions I need to ask Lady Cassandra."

Almost immediately, Adan's face soured. "Oh, but my lady..."

"I'm really sorry. It's just for a few minutes," she assured him.

The man sighed, shaking his head. "I cannot stop you if that is what you wish..." And then he muttered something under his breath about patients who didn't listen. Ahnnie could only smile sheepishly in return because she had no intentions of conforming to bed rest, not when she felt so restless.

She supposed, however, that she shouldn't overdo it and give him more ails to cure. "Just this once. I'll stay here for the rest of the day, after that."

Adan nodded and opened the door, stepping outside. Before his elven assistant could leave, though, Ahnnie rose from her seat on the edge of the bed and tapped the girl's shoulder.

"O-oh!" She whirled around skittishly, staring frightfully at Ahnnie. "Yes, my lady?"

"Please, just call me by my name," Ahnnie sighed. The elven girl already knew it by now; she had it given to her when she and Adan first stepped into the cabin, but refused to use it. "And, if I may ask; what's yours?"

"M-my lady wishes to know my name?"

"Yes."

"Well, hurry it up," Adan scolded.

The elven girl spluttered a few more times before blurting, "Nala. 'Tis my name: Nala."

Ahnnie smiled. "Nice to meet you, Nala. And thank you, too, for all that you've done."

Nala was taken aback, staring frozenly at Ahnnie. Then she slowly warmed to life and gave an incredulous smile. "I-it was nothing, my lady! I'm only glad that you're feeling better!" She held the door open for Ahnnie, who quickly protested, but would not have it and only released the door when the human girl stepped through. And then Nala quickly sped after Adan, though not without an enthusiastic look back at the 'Herald of Andraste'.

 _So much for trying to be familiar,_ Ahnnie sighed. She ensured the door was completely closed before making her way up to the Chantry, thinking of how to broach the subject with Cassandra. _Or maybe I should ask Leliana? She looks like she can handle longer explanations. I'm still so confused..._

She perked up a second later upon seeing a crowd gathered in front of the church. They were huddled around the door, murmuring avidly about something. Ahnnie slowly hobbled forward but as soon as she reached the fringe of the crowd, Chancellor Roderick burst through, an uneasy look on his face.

He froze upon seeing her, and she did the same. Before his expression could have the chance to harden, she stammered, "Ah, g-good morning, Chancellor..."

It was as if she had insulted him rather than greeted him. His brows furrowed disapprovingly and he whipped his head in another direction. "Hmph!" He stormed off, sparing not even a single word. The way he did it, she might as well have been an actual demon come to plague them all.

Ahnnie shook her head, trying not to let that bother her, and pushed through all the people to see what the fuss was about. She was glad they were too engrossed in something else to recognize her; she was growing sick of the special treatment by now. To be extra careful, she rolled up her hair and tucked it all under her cap. Yes, she was Asian, and no one here had seen an Asian before, but surely under regular conditions without any clear identifiers, she was not that noticeable? When she reached the Chantry doors, she saw nothing different other than a crookedly nailed notice with a strange eye symbol and red ribbons pinned on it. It was an official-looking notice, but she couldn't read what it said. She fidgeted uncomfortably from side to side, not only desiring to know what it meant, but also to reach out and adjust it. _A little more to the right, and it'd be perfect._

"The Inquisition has been reinstated," someone murmured to her left.

"What does that mean for the Chantry?"

"I wonder..."

Ahnnie almost turned to them to ask them what they knew of the matter. She stopped, however, when she considered that they might recognize her face. Instead, she ducked out of the crowd and made for the camp, where she happened to spot Cassandra. "Oh, hey, Cassand – er, Lady Cassandra!"

The Seeker paused in what she was doing and turned to her. "Herald of Andraste," she greeted formally.

Ahnnie mentally groaned as she reminded someone to call her by her name for the hundredth time. "Do you have a moment?" she then asked. "I was wondering if you could tell me more about Thedas."

Cassandra shook her head. "I am sorry. I have much to attend to this day. Unless you've noticed, we have been putting up official announcements of the Inquisition over Haven this morning."

"Oh...yeah, I saw one on the Chantry."

"Perhaps you can ask the hedge mage, Solas. He is down on that side." She pointed out the direction and turned back to her business, which was supervising a group of soldiers in their training.

 _Hedge mage?_ Ahnnie suddenly imagined the bald elf using his magic to trim hedges, whistling happily under the sun as he waved his staff over unkempt bushes. But she bothered Cassandra no longer and walked down to the second tier of Haven where the Seeker indicated, letting down her hair as she went. There were few people where she was going, so there wasn't much fear of recognition. Sure enough, Solas stood alone by a cabin, watching the sky with his staff at his side. Some people were nearby but they avoided him, occasionally casting suspicious glances his way. She wondered why until she remembered that mages outside of Circles were considered suspicious by most.

"The Chosen of Andraste," he murmured as she approached, and turned to look at her. "A blessed hero sent to save us all."

"Not you too," she groaned.

Solas chuckled. "I take it you're not pleased with your new epithets?"

"No."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I see. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Ahnnie twiddled her thumbs, wondering if this was the right thing to talk about with Solas. He seemed patient, though, and even studious. At least, that was the impression he gave to her. "I want to know more about Thedas."

"Oh?"

"Yeah...Cassandra gave me a summary of the war that's going on and the circumstances of the Conclave, but I _still_ don't know anything about this world."

"And that bothers you," Solas inferred.

"Exactly! I find myself thinking, ' _What country am I in?_ ', and ' _What customs am I breaking?_ ' I thought worrying about what I was getting into was bad enough; now I'm sweating the details. Of course, I'm still worried about what I'm supposed to do," she added, "but I thought I should at least know _something_ of this place I've fallen into."

With a small smile, he beckoned her over to a set of flat boulders situated behind a low stone wall. Using his staff to control the snow, he flicked off enough of the powdery white substance to clear a seating area for two. After claiming his spot, he pat the stone beside him gently, and Ahnnie took it up.

"Do you find yourself worrying often?" he asked her once she settled down.

"Kind of." Then she frowned. "Okay, a lot."

"Why?"

"I just...I don't know. I just worry."

"Interesting." Solas let his staff rest against the rock and watched the clouds overhead; they were whitish-gray, blanketing the entire sky. "Another storm, perhaps?" he murmured, and then turned to look at her. "Never mind. I suppose, then, that I should explain Thedas to you as if you knew nothing of it, excluding what you know of the war and Chantry?"

Ahnnie nodded.

"Very well." And so, with an intake of breath, Solas began the task of explaining his world to someone who was a complete stranger.

* * *

Ahnnie listened, enraptured, as the elf told her about the many kingdoms that composed Thedas.

First of all, Thedas was not just the name of the world – it was also the name of a single continent upon which all these kingdoms resided. No other continents seemed to exist, at least to the best of Thedosian knowledge, although there were islands and some faraway places at the fringe of the map. He promised her a look at an actual map later; for now, she only had to listen.

The country they were currently in was Ferelden, and Haven sat on its very edge along the tip of the Frostback Mountains. The more Solas explained it to her, the more Ferelden sounded like a uniqe mix of frontier America and twelfth-century England. The best part about Fereldan culture to Ahnnie was the importance of dogs; while canines were used from herding to guarding and hunting, Fereldans also held an appreciation of the animal as a staunch companion. Lying directly east of Ferelden, The Orlesian Empire was known as a nation of great wealth and opulence. If France was given leave to become an empire with a heavy emphasis on fashion, then it would certainly sound like Orlais. Orlesian nobility and royalty were often involved in a series of infighting, plotting, and political machinations called 'The Grand Game' that took courtly intrigue to a whole new level. And to the north, the Tevinter Imperium was yet another great nation, known for its expansive empire in the past. Unlike the rest of Thedas, mages were held in high esteem in Tevinter. As magisters, they were the rulers of the Imperium, led by the Imperial Archon. The names as well as some of the history brought the Roman Empire to mind.

In fact, the more Solas spoke of the other nations, the more she could seem to identify some similarity or counterpart from her world. Antiva's spicy and flowery culture seemed like the Italian city-states; the artistic and death-obsessed Nevarra a strange, indefinite mix between Romance European countries and, interestingly enough, the death culture of Ancient Egypt; and the exotic Rivain sounded similar to Moorish Spain, but she was not too sure. The Free Marches had their own distinct flavor, being a collection of city-states with no clear parallel, and the Anderfels were a mystery to her, although it was from there that Solas explained the Blights that had plagued Thedas and the Grey Wardens.

But that was just the human side of things; when she pressed Solas for the elves and the dwarves, she was shocked to hear that elves were considered inferior and often relegated to alienages within the cities or scattered across the Dales in clans. It went against the fantasy tropes where elves were often the superior and haughty race. He proceeded to tell her the story of Elvhenan and the fall of the elven pantheon, in which the trickster god Fen'Harel was often the culprit for the elves' fall from power. She could hardly believe it was solely the work of the gods, however, and he agreed that there was more history behind it than the myth let on.

As for dwarves, they were separated between surface dwarves and underground Orzammar dwarves. Surface dwarves tended to live as the humans around them did, but Orzammar dwarves lived under a strict regimen of castes. Varric was an example of a casteless dwarf, hailing from the Free Marches city of Kirkwall. And to the far reaches of the north, beyond the Tevinter Imperium, were the islands Par Vollen and Seheron where a race of horned giants called the Qunari lived. That was all he could tell her for now, and he suggested that if she wished to know more on anything he had presented, she should read books on history and cultures.

"The problem is I can't read the words here," she lamented.

"You have a different writing system?" he asked her curiously.

"Yes, and I was surprised it wasn't the same for here, as the language seems to be." Ahnnie shrugged. "I guess that's just how it is. I should learn how to read it, though. I don't want to be handicapped forever."

"I'll make a note of it to Cassandra," Solas remarked. "Perhaps she can get ahold of one of the Chantry sisters to help you."

Ahnnie nodded. But at the mention of Cassandra, she remembered something – "She said you were a hedge mage. What is that, exactly?"

Solas gave her a wry smile. "It is a term for mages whose magic is...different, from that of typical mages. Both in development and expression. As it happens outside the Circle of Magi, many are wary of it, the Chantry especially. But enough on me; tell me of _your_ world."

She blinked in surprise. "Do you believe that I come from another world, though?" she asked curiously. "Now that I think about it...Cassandra and Varric talk as if I come from another place, but they never really say where specifically, or show that they believe." She didn't blame them. She wouldn't have believed, if it were not for what she'd seen.

Solas shrugged. "It is possible. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage...while I'm not aware of any previous instances of interworldly travel, I wouldn't deem it impossible."

Now Ahnnie was even _more_ curious about Solas and his experiences; if he was an apostate, and a hedge mage at that, how did he convince Cassandra to let him help? In fact, why did people call Cassandra 'Seeker'? Did it have anything to do with templars? But she realized that asking so many questions at once might seem imposing, so she began to uphold her end of the bargain.

She started with the fact that her world was more commonly known as 'Earth', at least in the English language; the equivalent to the Thedosian Common tongue. Earth had not one continent but seven, and many, _many_ countries within its vast reach. She only told him of what was more widely known, sharing with him especially her observations on the similarities to the Thedosian cultures and vice versa. When she told Solas of the major religions, he was delighted to be able to draw parallels between the Andrastian and Christian beliefs.

She reiterated that there were no other races besides the humans. What humans did consider as a 'race', however, were characteristics of skin color and facial features. These primarily differed across the continents, although there were as many different people as there were different countries. Unlike the divide between nobles and commoners in Thedas, the social direction of Earth seemed to gravitate more towards equality. While there were still unequal power balances, a lot of people had more opportunities than before.

Ahnnie could tell that gears were turning in Solas' head as he took it all in. His face brightened in wonderment as it grew evident that her world was a world more technologically advanced than he'd previously imagined; going from technology as Thedas had to the great mechanic wonders of factories, cars, airplanes, computers, phones, the Internet! Everything from food to clothes was mass-produced, and communication could take place within the blink of an eye no matter what the distance between the communicators. Travel was also made faster and easier, making it even more possible to connect people from faraway places.

This world had no magic, demons, Veil, or Fade, but science at its helm. Bladed weapons had long ago been cast aside in favor of firearms, bombs, missiles, rockets; many of them projectiles of some sort, Ahnnie realized, but more capable of damage than their bladed ancestors had been. To reference some of their prowess, she told Solas of the famous World Wars. Medicine was at an all-time breakthrough, with men able to see organisms smaller than a speck of dust through microscopes and identify which ones caused diseases, doctors able to operate on a live person as they lay under anesthesia, and multiple vaccinations that could guard a person against any number of viral ills – some of which pushed whole diseases to the brink of extinction.

Solas nodded thoughtfully as he considered the greatness of such a world, and yet at the same time its pitfalls; the sacrifice of the environment in favor of industrialization, the immense power placed in nations' militaries, and the laziness that everyday inventions might incur, to name a few.

Ahnnie found herself practically breathless by the time she finished (and yet, one could not simply 'finish' explaining worlds as diverse as Earth and Thedas, could they?), but the talk had been enjoyable; more so than she thought it'd be. She opened her mouth again in eager anticipation of continuing some of the debates that Solas brought up, but was silenced when he noticed an ominous rush of weather headed Haven's way.

"We will continue this later," he promised her, and she reluctantly made her way back to her cabin.

* * *

The snowstorm lasted for the rest of the day, much to Ahnnie's dismay. There were rations in her cabin to sustain her but she still hungered for more talk with Solas. Of course, her interest was probably better invested in books, as Solas must have busted his mouth explaining all that he did to her, but she was as equally curious to learn of him as she was of Thedas.

His knowledge of the Fade, especially...what was it exactly that he knew? Could he possibly shed any light on how she came here? Did he know a way back?

She was out and about the next morning, disobeying Adan and searching for Solas. The healer had not come by today, so he didn't weigh too heavily on her conscience. She found Solas more or less in the same area as before, and when he greeted her, it was not she who quickly got down to business but the elf himself.

"Tell me, what is your culture like?" he asked. "You mentioned that you were born in America, but you must surely know a few things about Vietnam."

She hadn't expected him to ask that. Still, she was delighted to hear that he was interested. "I do, actually," she said. They sat back down on the same rock as before and Ahnnie tried to think of where she would start. "Well, most of Vietnamese culture is in line with the filial duty and ancestral worship that originated in China..."

The people were either Buddhists or Catholics, but even then, parents and elders were extremely important. Unlike its big neighbor to the north, Vietnam was a small country that was no stranger to multiple invasions. China, the Mongols, Japan, France – and there was probably more, but she didn't know of them. The only time it ever managed to invade another country was long, long ago, when it claimed land from the Cambodian Champa kingdom in the south. The most recent conflict she knew of, the Vietnam War, was what brought her family to America as refugees against the Communist regime. Therefore, a mix of resilience and submission to foreigners was present in the culture.

Vietnamese people were categorized in three different ways according to the main dialects: Northern, Middle, and Southern. To explain this to Solas, Ahnnie needed to demonstrate the four different tones in the Vietnamese language, in her own words: the up tone, the down tone, the roller coaster, and the deep down tone. All three dialects maintained the use of tones, but pronounced things different ways; The Northerners often sounded as though they were speaking with constricted throats. Southerners, on the other hand, had a more bouncing flow to their words. And then the Middle dialect had been a bafflement to her all her life; almost every other word seemed punctuated with a deep down tone, and it didn't help that they had their own extensive vocabulary. When asked which dialect she used, she replied, "Southern."

And onto stereotypes: Northerners were considered cold and classy; Southerners, naive and hospitable. Ahnnie tried to remember what the people of the Middle had been known for, but couldn't find it in any of her memories. _If I'd been home, I could just ask someone or use the Internet..._ Indeed, a lot of her knowledge was fragmented in many areas. Gathered as a whole, it probably didn't matter, but where she would have used a Google search to help fill in the blanks she could only shrug helplessly and admit defeat. That bothered her more than a little.

But moving on. Due to the prestige of the Northern dialect, it was the norm for songs to be sung in it regardless of the composer or singer's origins, unless it was specifically a song meant for that region. Curious, Solas encouraged her to give him an example. "One can learn a lot about cultures through song alone," he had remarked.

Ahnnie nodded and took in a few deep breaths as she tried to remember some noteworthy Northern song to start off with. Her mind filtered through the countless melodies imprinted on her mind from years of listening at parties, functions, home...

" _Waking up alone in the morning,_ _I look_ _around –_

 _Light slants through_ _window. The birds are startled,_

 _Knowing their songs of love have been heard..._ "

Her voice faltered and then she realized that that was all she knew of the song. She tried futilely to summon the next verse, but quickly realized she couldn't. It had, at the very least, captured most of the Northern dialect. To cover up her embarrassment, she moved onto a Southern song. Its melody was noticeably more buoyant in tone and structure, to reflect the dialect and countryside origins:

" _Out in the fields, the rice has dried out_

 _A starling flies alone in the skies_

 _Calling, 'Oh friend of my heart, oh'_

 _We are separated by a few rivers_

 _And yet why can't you return?_

 _So that this suffering heart must grow sadder_

 _And thirst after the rain."_

She paused, almost afraid that she'd forgotten the rest, and was pleasantly surprised to find that she had not.

" _Now the rice is green again_

 _The starling returns to the river_

 _Flying alone, crying, 'Oh friend of my heart, oh'_

 _What is there to miss?_

 _For the call, the call never made it_

 _Let the silence assuage_

 _These aching sorrows._

 _Every evening, the starling flies across the river, searching_

 _Only to be lost, lost and regretful_

 _Starlings separated from their flock still hope to come together_

 _So why do you cross the bridge, and never return?_ "

Her voice choked on the last word and she coughed. With a sheepish smile, she dismissed the stumble as nothing more than a throat irritation and carried on to the next refrain.

"... _With a heavy heart, I sing the old folk song out of love for he who crossed the bridge_

 _With a heavy heart, I sing the old folk song to assuage my sorrow_

 _Those who crossed the bridge and returned, have done so_

 _Those who crossed the bridge want to return, and can do so._ "

 _It's almost over,_ she thought. _I hope I still remember it._

" _Tomorrow_ , _I am going far. To whom shall I send this song?_

 _Tomorrow, I am going far. To whom shall I send this song?_

 _Tomorrow I am going far. This song...I wish to return.._ _.to–_ "

Her voice was unable to take the high notes. It had been straining the moment she entered the very last line. She coughed again, tears rimming the edges of her eyes as her throat stung. Solas pat her on the back and asked if she was all right; when she looked up, she found more tears welling into her eyes, and not simply from her throat, either.

"I need a moment," she quietly rasped, and Solas nodded.

* * *

"Are Vietnamese songs always so sad?"

Ahnnie thought carefully before she could deny or affirm the fact. "I think they are," she realized – as she perused the titles of famous songs she knew, they didn't exactly reflect smiles and sunshine. _Thành_ _Ph_ _ố_ _Buồn,_ "Sad City"; _Riêng Một Góc Trời,_ "Lonely Corner of the Sky"; _Mưa Rừng,_ "Forest Rain"; and then the songs she sang from, _Ṃột Mình,_ "Alone" and _Nỗi Buồn Chim Sáo,_ "Sorrow of the Starling". There _were_ happy songs out there, but sad ones seemed to outweigh them. Perhaps that said something about the culture, but she wasn't too sure of what.

"Sorry about earlier," she apologized. "I guess I chose the wrong song to, well, sing...it was about going across a bridge and returning."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Solas assured her. "It is expected that you would become homesick."

He sounded sad, almost regretful. Ahnnie immediately felt guilty for tearing up as she did and berated herself for being so inconsiderate. She could not deny the yawning hole that had opened within her, though...that empty abyss that cried out for completion...for home.

 _Is that how I feel? Incomplete?_ It was a curious thought. It was true, however, that she would've been happy going on in her daily routine. Wake up, have some breakfast, walk the dogs, study...it was safe and snug, as long as her parents were pleased with her.

As long as.

Ahnnie's lips twisted broodily as the concepts clashed in her mind. Everything was fine, _as long as_ her parents were happy. She was pleased with her life _as long as_ nothing serious happened. She was okay with continuing that sort of life at the expense of her freedom. Horror crept into her heart as it had many times before when she envisioned herself as an older adult, still chained in that cycle that was at once safe and sickening.

It was only now, however, that a strange series of events forced her to look at the implications in their full glory. She put a hand to her mouth, feeling an uncomfortable churning in her stomach as the realizations sank in.

"Can I trust you, Solas?" she whispered a moment later, her hand lowering to her side.

The elf turned to her, slightly surprised, but nodded anyway.

 _This is crazy._ But she wasn't stopping. "You know how I said that eighteen-year-olds are legally considered adults in America?" When he nodded, she continued, "So I know not all of them leave home once they come of age. With the economy as it is, sometimes they stay for longer. But I...I'm different. As in, the bad sort of different. I'm no better than those freeloaders who live in their mothers' basements playing video games all day."

The comparison stung, but she wanted to be truthful. "I have no spine. I tell myself I won't let others push me around, but when it comes to my parents, I let them do whatever they want. Even now, it seems like I can't do anything on my own. I..."

 _I'm being confusing._ She sighed. "I call them 'parents' but they're my mom and my stepdad. See, when I was six, my actual parents got a divorce. I don't know how divorces work in Thedas, but on Earth...they can get pretty messy. Then she moved out, and we ended up being split between them. She would blame it all on our dad, and convinced us do the same.

"Everything went downhill when she met our stepdad. I mean, he was nice at first; really funny, and everything. But the moment she officially got together with him, it was like a bomb went off. Suddenly, we had to define where our loyalties lay. Everyone on the maternal side – our aunts, our grandmother, even distant cousins we didn't know about. They just suddenly came out of the woodwork and forced us to have an opinion in favor of our dad. Then she was doing the same thing, and it became a daily struggle for us to please everybody. When my little brother was born a year later, my grandparents disowned her and she cut off all contact with everybody else, convinced that she was the victim.

"Then when I was twelve...our dad fought for full custody. My mom and stepdad went full rabid on us, threatening to never see us again if we weren't fully committed to staying with them, or if we let out anything that would've complicate her custody." Ahnnie's throat caught, and she gulped. "I loved her at the same time I was afraid of her, so I just did as she said. My little sister wasn't so sure, though, and went through the worst of their rage...she agreed just to make them shut up, and when Mom won the case, she...she's never been the same again...

"Then my stepdad convinced Mom to move to another state. That was when our finances became tight. And I don't know _how_ it happened, but Mom was suddenly 'hearing' all these spirits talk to her and she became convinced that she was a god of some sort. I think the stress got to her...Stepdad took advantage of it and moved the statues on the altar to make it look like they were communicating with her...I was confused until I realized that these 'messages' were...were telling her to trick people for profit. Innocent, naive Vietnamese people who didn't know what to do when the American economy gave way."

She shuddered and hugged her knees to her body. "It stopped when I was, what, fourteen? After that, it seemed like she didn't need gods to give her messages to tell her what to do. It became natural. Still, whenever she wanted something, it was always 'the gods' who decreed it, and she would get really loud if she thought she was being defied. Like when she pulled me and my sister from school into homeschooling; my sister protested, and she yelled so loudly the neighbors called the cops. Or that one time she roared in 'heavenly wrath' when she thought my little brother was playing too many video games. He was only ten and played just one game, an hour a day." Ahnnie hid her face in her knees, cringing in embarrassment. "God. That sounds so stupid."

Solas shifted in his seat, and Ahnnie felt a warm hand placed on her back. "No, it sounds horrible. No matter how outlandish it might seem, it doesn't detract from what you and your siblings faced. To think that it would, would be a grave mistake."

"And yet, so many people made that mistake," Ahnnie ground out. "I tried telling people about what she did to my brother but they laughed and said it was his fault for not listening to his mother, and that I was making shit up about her because I was upset." She sighed. "I'm pretty sure CPS let that one go down the drain. The cops weren't any help, either; they just bought her story about an argument between her and Stepdad, and left.

"She never knew I did that, so we were all safe for a time. Money came in, she was happy, Stepdad was happy...they got us a dog, and we were happy. Then another dog, and shit hit the fan for a while when they refused to spay or neuter either one and puppies came...but if nothing really happens, then living with them is tolerable. Well, if you didn't think too much about the made-up identities and lies you have to tell so she could pull off her scams."

The elf watched her pensively, brows furrowed in thought. "I see..."

"Nothing major; just things like we're her sister's kids, or her piano students, or we're this-and-that age." She paused a moment, thinking. "If I had to compare my mom and stepdad to anything, I would say that they're like the Thernadiers from Victor Hugo's _Les Miserables._ Selfish, lying, cheating scum who treat their children well when things are good, but horribly when things go bad. And who are attracted to anybody with the bigger purse," she added for good measure. "But that's why I'm no hero, no Herald of An-what's-her-name. They tell me to be a good girl, stay in the house, and don't think about being anything on my own because that's what the gods want, then I do it. I only fought demons because I was afraid I would die. And suddenly, I don't know whether I want to be home or not. I miss my dogs, I'm worried for my siblings, and yet I'm so undecided."

That answer seemed to confound Solas, but it was not completely unwarranted. He had been reading the gist from her monologue as patiently and observantly as he had when she told him about Earth. "I know you think yourself hopeless because of what happened to you," he said at last. "You are not, however, defined by those times. Contrary to what you believe, you _do_ have the power to shape your life differently – more so now than before. Perhaps you will find that your time here will change you, and that if you return, you can carve out a life for the better."

"Perhaps," she murmured. _If_ a way home could be found in the first place. And it seemed like a nice goal to work towards. "But man, I said all that...to you..." She shook her head. "I've never told anyone else before...it's just...for something like this to happen to me, it's almost..." _Coincidence? Fate?_ "...absurd."

"Then it makes me happy that you chose me to confide in. Know that if you should need anything, I am here to help," Solas added, smiling gently at her. "You don't have to go about this alone, after all."

"Thanks." She managed a small smile, even though she still felt torn on the inside. "But what do you think is going to happen?" she asked a moment later.

"Many things. Great and wondrous, terrible and dreadful...but your undoing will not be one of them; not unless you will it to."

And for one thrilling, empowered moment, she was able to believe that.

* * *

 **A/N:** To listen to the songs described above, please click on my profile and find them under the 'Links' section. I recommend you do so to get a feel of what they're like. You don't have to listen to the entire songs, just a few lines...*shameless promotion of culture, haha*

Also, there are officially 6 tones in the Vietnamese language. However Ahnnie notes 4 because she is not counting the neutral tone, in which nothing really changes, and there are two variations of the roller coaster tone in the Northern dialect that are not present/audible in the Southern one.


	7. Chapter 6

Cassandra walked out of the cabin, closing the door behind her. _Where could she be?_ She trudged down the snowy path, trying to think of where the girl might have gone. _What an inopportune time to go missing,_ she thought dourly.

She had checked what seemed like every inch of Haven and the girl's cabin twice by now. Her absence was not only worrying, it was irritating; especially when so many important things were brewing. Cassandra was aware of how much Ahnnie disliked her new situation, but that didn't make it any less important. It was time she learned of what she had to do – no more hesitance, no more stuttering, and certainly no more procrastinating. They had all been waiting for her foot to heal, and now that it had, it was time for her to embrace the responsibilities that came along with the mark on her hand.

Then Cassandra caught sight of a familiar bulky shape from the corner of her eye. "Varric," she hailed when she faced the dwarf on the path.

"Seeker," Varric greeted back, giving her a mock bow. "How may I be of assistance?"

She ignored his faux grandiosity and went straight to the point. "Have you seen the Herald of Andraste?"

"Oh, Ahnnie? Yeah, I have."

"Where?"

He pointed with his thumb behind him. "She went on a walk with Solas outside of town. I heard them talkin' about scandalous elections and some guy named Nixon."

Cassandra couldn't care less about who 'Nixon' was. That the girl left Haven with the elf was all she needed to hear. "Maker's breath!" She shoved past Varric and stormed down the path, this time heading towards Haven's gates. _The foolish girl! And that apostate –_ words simply couldn't describe her incredulity at the moment. _Do they want to draw more suspicion on themselves?_ A soldier chatting idly with his colleague on the side of the path saw the angry Seeker and straightened in salutation. She ignored him. _How long have they been gone for? And how often have they done this? I really should have paid more attention to her!_

* * *

Ahnnie relished the crunch of boots on freshly fallen snow as she strolled beside Solas. The chill winter air swept delightfully by her cheeks and nose, tinting them with a slight reddish hue.

"And you say the Watergate scandal was considered the worst political scandal of the twentieth century? I should like to see their reactions to Orlesian nobility."

She laughed. "Well, to be fair, that was the twentieth century, as in, 1900's. It's the twenty-first century now, so maybe something worse has popped up." Ahnnie shook her head. "I don't pay much attention to politics, anyhow. Too chaotic." They then fell into another silence as their focus shifted back on the return path to Haven, the wind blowing leisurely between them.

Ever since those first talks of worlds and culture, she met up with Solas regularly to continue exchanging information. She had fun in particular trying to fit the different aspects of Thedosian cultures under Geert Hofstede's five cultural dimensions, or discussing Abraham Maslow's hierarchy of needs when trying to dissect the drive behind the players of the Grand Game. In return, she was able to learn more of the elf's fascinating journeys to the Fade through dream.

Entering the Fade! Through _dream_!

Ahnnie was shocked to hear that everyone did that, except for dwarves, who did not dream. It set her on edge at first when she thought of all the dreaming she'd done – Solas told her she was unconscious in the prison for two days, then for three days after sealing the first rift, and it had been nigh on three weeks since then, so she'd been here a total of four weeks – _four weeks_ worth of dreaming and entering that accursed Fade. Some of her dreams _had_ been rather funky, now that she thought of it...

But she relaxed when she saw how everyone around her still seemed okay though they too had Fade dreams. It was then she learned that the Fade was more than just a creepy dimension of spirits and demons; it was a repository of memories, a place able to be shaped by belief and willpower – she had only to believe in a certain thing whilst there, and it would come true. Much like in dreams on Earth, she supposed. It made her wonder whether the Fade held true for both Thedas and Earth? It must have somehow, if she'd been able to enter Thedas through a tear in it. And yet dreaming was proven to be a purely cognitive function back on Earth. Solas arched an eyebrow when he heard that scientists, through brainwave tests, proved dreaming occurred during a phase known as rapid eye movement sleep and originated in some part of the brain, drawing on memory to construct the dream. A person born blind, for example, could not dream visually but audibly, because they had never known sight to begin with but had plenty of sound memories to draw from.

"Perhaps that explains why there is no magic in your world," Solas then suggested. "Still, it does sound as though some characteristics of the Fade are present in Earth dreams. As for a blind person's experience in the Fade...I have yet to hear of it, though I imagine it would be rather interesting."

But as much as Solas was willing to divulge on his dreams ( _sleeping in ruins to experience their history? Now that's new,_ Ahnnie thought), he seemed reticent about giving full details of his past. For all this talk of the Fade, the only things Ahnnie knew about him personally was that he grew up in a small village, left it to travel the wilderness and experience more of the Fade, and was his own teacher when it came to magic. Nothing quite as detailed as her monologue three weeks prior, but that was all right – not everyone was willing to spill so much at a time. It still baffled her sometimes that she trusted so much to him in the first place, but she didn't dwell on it.

And yet, chatting with Solas was not all that she'd been up to. Perhaps he had talked Cassandra, for a Chantry sister named Sister Magdelene showed up one day with books and paper and began tutoring her on how to read and write in Common. She had come to the cabin in consideration of the girl's foot, but Ahnnie soon alternated between the cabin and a room in the Chantry to make it more convenient for the nun. Under Sister Magdelene's tutelage, she was able to catch onto the runic Common fairly soon; it shared similar sounds to the English alphabet, with some differences and tweaks (some of which she still puzzled over, such as two or three runes for a certain sound to be alternated when used in a certain way), but by the end of the first week she was able to slowly read passages in the Chant of Light.

Sister Magdelene encouraged her to keep a journal handy and often assigned her writing projects in a separate notebook to assist in accuracy and penmanship. Ahnnie pounced at this chance to keep her own journal, writing more in the English alphabet than the Common runes, yet still alternating between the two. She mostly wrote down things about Earth so that she wouldn't forget – song lyrics, current and historic events, memories, anything she knew that she could think of to put into writing – sometimes whole entries in grammatically choppy Vietnamese, for the threat of forgetfulness loomed ominously in her mind. When she got ahold of sketching charcoals, she added illustrations to that collection, some of which she showed Solas when she thought they might interest him. They ranged from cultural costumes and everyday clothes to buildings, household appliances, and automobiles. If at any time she was grateful for good drawing skills, it was now.

Between that and visiting Netta and Lady at the Singing Maiden, Ahnnie believed herself to be having quite an enjoyable time. She was making good progress with Lady, getting the dog to accept food by hand from both her and Netta. And when Adan and Nala came by, she was able to get the skittish elf girl to call her "Lady Ahnnie" rather than "my lady" or "Lady Herald" – not complete familiarity, but acceptable for now. Varric occasionally popped by to see how she was doing and would sometimes listen to stories of her world, though if he believed in any of it, he did not seem to show.

When Ahnnie and Solas neared the gates of Haven, the guards pulled the doors to let them in. She was still in a cheery mood as the gates slowly swung open, unaware of an angry female figure standing there with her arms crossed. When the female figure was revealed in full, Ahnnie jolted in shock and immediately felt afraid.

"C-Cassandra," she stammered, "um...hi..."

From the look on the Seeker's face, it seemed as though she had much to answer for.

* * *

"It was just this once," Ahnnie insisted. "Honest. You can ask the guards; they'll swear this is the only time they ever let us out. Plus, we were in sight of the gates the whole time."

"And Chancellor Roderick will swear that you've been out plotting the destruction of the world," Cassandra put in flatly. "I may have dismissed him as a scholar, but that doesn't mean we should give him more cause to dislike the Inquisition. He is, most unfortunately, head of the Chantry now."

"Him? But I thought..."

"Everyone who outranked him was killed in the explosion. So until the remaining grand clerics can elect a new Divine, he is the de facto leader of the Chantry."

The Seeker was pleased to see that the realization had shaken her, as her pale face indicated. However, Cassandra was not cruel; she assured the girl a moment later that the Inquisition operated separately from the Chantry. They simply should not give the Chancellor more fuel for his misgivings, was all.

But perhaps she should be more worried about Solas. Cassandra was not as distrusting of mages as most people were, but there was no denying the fact that he had no Circle credentials and that his area of magical study was one upon which the Chantry frowned. He was useful, that was true; his knowledge of the Fade could help them seal the Breach. But if he so much as stepped out of line, Cassandra didn't think even her authority as Seeker or the Herald's new prestige could keep him safe in Andrastian territory.

"It was all my idea," Ahnnie apologized at last. "I'm sorry. I thought it was fine since everyone seemed okay with Solas by now...That is, I told them it would be okay, because I trusted him. So, he had nothing to do with it."

"I understand," Cassandra sighed. "What is done has been done. Solas will not be facing any repercussions, if that is what you fear." Still, she was going to have a word with him about it later. She also supposed she shouldn't be surprised that the girl used her title to gain what she wanted. Ahnnie was inexperienced, but not naive; not as far as Cassandra could tell, anyway. But that was for another time. For now, they had to focus on the matter at hand. "Since your health has been cleared by Adan, it is time you learned to fight."

They stopped by a group of soldiers who were practicing their swordcraft, metal clashing and clanging as the blades struck. Ahnnie flinched when she saw sparks fly from the swords of a pair of soldiers closest to them.

"Not with real weapons, of course," Cassandra assured her. "At least, not right away. But if we are to succeed in sealing the Breach, then it is essential that you know how to defend yourself."

Ahnnie nodded. "I understand," she answered, her voice grim.

"Good." Cassandra looked the girl up and down in appraisal. "We will do what we can to accommodate your body to combat. Of course, it will not be easy – you have not trained as these soldiers trained, so you will not be used to the exercise. Most likely you will find it very uncomfortable. It is not impossible, however; recruits have been picked out from older people, and have done just fine."

"You're forgetting the amount of time spent training such recruits," a familiar voice chimed in, "and the fact that they are picked from people such as farmers, who are no strangers to physical exertion."

Cassandra turned around. "Leliana," she greeted.

Leliana stepped up to them and returned Cassandra's greeting with her title. "I see we're finally getting onto combat training," she said when she turned to Ahnnie. "As Cassandra mentioned, it will be difficult, yet can still be done. We're not looking for mastery; but rather, competency. Forcing you to learn too much will result in getting you nowhere. And yet, we have a narrow time frame with which to do it."

"We've discussed this," Cassandra added, "and so rather than make you learn a standard weapon, you shall be trained according to whatever fits you better."

"Well...that does make sense," Ahnnie remarked.

Then Leliana suddenly grabbed hold of her right hand, studying it. "A pity," she sighed. "You have such smooth, uncalloused hands..." Her grey-blue eyes shifted over to the girl's confused brown ones, their intent indiscernible. "You could have made a worthwhile bard."

Ahnnie jerked slightly in the spymaster's grasp as a bewildered look overcame her. Leliana chuckled. "It seems you know what a bard is," she commented. "But of course, there isn't enough time to teach you that profession." She gently let down the girl's hand. "Nor do you have the right mentality. You should prepare yourself, however; your hands will hurt like hell for the next few days."

Cassandra had suspected that the girl led a sheltered life, so that came as no surprise to her. "We will begin with a series of tests using fake or blunted versions of different weapons," she announced. "The weapon you are most comfortable with will be the one for you to train in." She drew out two wooden swords from a nearby barrel and handed one to Ahnnie. "I will go easy on you but you are to come at me seriously, as if you mean to hurt me. If you do not..." The Seeker crouched into a fighting stance, the fake weapon held in both hands. "...then I will make you."

* * *

Ahnnie felt her muscles tense as she watched Cassandra advance on her. It was like reliving the fights with the demons, only in a completely different way; Cassandra was coming for her. It was not a brutish demon standing opposite her but a seasoned warrior, much more skilled and experienced than she was.

The thought was intimidating, made more so by the Seeker's glaring eyes. Though she promised to go easy, she probably didn't realize her face looked anything _but_ easy. Ahnnie froze in place as she tried to think of what to do. _Stand my ground, let her swipe, take her open side..._ And then Cassandra was upon her, and she barely blocked the Seeker's swing with her sword. _Is she really going easy on me?_ Ahnnie wondered. _That blow was hard!_ She jumped back a step to keep some distance between them and jabbed out at Cassandra's side as planned.

The Seeker dodged and lunged in with an elbow, knocking Ahnnie's hands aside and disarming her almost immediately.

As the wooden sword fell uselessly to the ground, a few soldiers who were taking breaks perked up at the noise and watched the pair with interest. Ahnnie's cheeks burned as she felt their eyes on her back and heard a few chuckles.

Without a word, Cassandra grabbed a wooden shield and blunted mace and equipped the girl with the items. For herself, she made do with a blunted sword and another wooden shield. After giving a few pointers on how to wield a mace, she lunged in again and Ahnnie instinctively brought up the shield to prevent the attack from connecting.

 _Thwap!_ The sword banged against the shield, sending vibrations through her arm that clattered her very teeth. Ahnnie brought up the mace a moment later, but it was a moment too late, for as she lowered the shield to see where she should strike her opponent, the sight of the blade so near her face made her freeze and Cassandra successfully disarmed her again.

And so the process would repeat with a variety of other handheld weapons; axes, hammers, flails...they tried other swords, such as the short sword, falchion, and saber, and it even seemed as though Cassandra went easier on her than before. But no matter what Ahnnie used to defend herself, the Seeker would always manage to disarm her in record time.

 _Is this really necessary?_ she wondered as her weapon flew out of her hands for the umpteenth time. _Can they really tell if I'm 'comfortable' with a weapon this way? Why can't they just pick one already and train me in it? Then I won't have this stupid problem._

She was about ready to give up until Leliana handed her a quarterstaff. A different type of weapon was certainly a refreshing sight, and Ahnnie couldn't think of ways for Cassandra to disarm her with something like a stave. Not unless she was able to get close, of course – and Ahnnie couldn't let her do that. As she held the quarterstaff in her hands, she felt a marked difference from the other weapons, and it wasn't just from being another type; since the weight was more evenly distributed along the shaft, the weapon felt balanced, more manageable. Its length, running about six feet long, seemed perfect to her for keeping enemy weapons at bay. She mentally shuddered as she remembered the proximity with which Cassandra's blade had come to her.

Satisfied, Ahnnie turned back around to face Cassandra again. As always, the Seeker gave her helpful hints on how to use the different weapons she came to hold, but Ahnnie could already tell some of the quarterstaff's basics from its shape; pretty much blunt damage enforced by the ends, in punishing jabs or whacks.

Ahnnie stood her ground once more as Cassandra stopped pacing to come rushing at her. As she drew close, Ahnnie moved the quarterstaff in a quick jab at the woman's shoulder, opposite the side where she brandished her blade. Cassandra slapped it aside before it could connect and Ahnnie followed up with a flanking blow on the other side. Her heart leapt with joy when she realized that she had made her first hit. As Cassandra tried to maneuver around the quarterstaff, she was able to score several more hits and even one block to the sword before the Seeker snuck in on an open side and held the blade at her back; not roughly, but firmly enough to let her know that this segment of the test was finished.

It lasted perhaps ten seconds overall, but it was the longest Ahnnie had been able to hold out against Cassandra. When they both separated and put their weapons aside, Leliana took up the quarterstaff and eyed it carefully.

"It seems polearms are more of your type," she remarked a while later. "You prefer a long reach with the ability to keep your opponent at bay...is that correct?"

Ahnnie nodded. "At least, I didn't know I did until now."

Leliana nodded back thoughtfully. "Of course, it's a good compensation for your height, and the balance is better for your body..." She trailed off, turning the quarterstaff in her hands as if to inspect it for a hidden blemish. "Glaive-guisarme," she suddenly said. "Standard shaft, lighter blade – that's the weapon for you."

"What?"

"Orlesian," the spymaster clarified. "A polearm with a curved blade and hook on the reverse side to catch other blades in combat, or other riders if on horseback. A bladed end wouldn't be so bad, either. I'll make a note to the blacksmith to craft one. It will take several days, perhaps less if it's not too much trouble to rework this quarterstaff, but you will train with a halberd in the meantime."

"That's great," Ahnnie commented, "but...why craft a new one? Can't I just learn with a halberd?"

"Halberds are more about cleaving movements," Leliana explained. "You seem like you would be better accustomed to rounded slashing movements, which the curved blade of the glaive-guisarme is better for, in addition to cleaving; then there is the added benefit of the hook." She put the quarterstaff aside and continued, "The point for now is to learn the basics of polearms. There are universal rules for wielding them, regardless of the blade. Then once you start specializing in one, the difference is simply in knowing which movement goes best with the blade shape." When the girl still seemed confused, Leliana assured her, "It will all become apparent once you get better."

"And in order to get better, you must start somewhere," Cassandra put in. "You will now take your first lesson with Corporal Hargrave, our polearms expert. You are to report to him every morning after breakfast and train until he dismisses you for the day."

Ahnnie nodded. "All right. Sounds good to me."

And with that, Cassandra took her across the training ground to where Corporal Hargrave stood supervising some soldiers in their polearm practice. He was a tall man with well-built legs, and when he turned around to regard them, Ahnnie noticed he also possessed the bushiest mustache she'd ever seen.

Cassandra took him aside to exchange a few words before she pushed Ahnnie towards him and left. There was an awkward moment when he suddenly scolded a few soldiers who had stopped to gawk, his booming voice freezing her into an attentive stance though the training had not yet begun. When he finished, he gave her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that," he said, his mustache dancing to life. "Now then, Herald of Andraste – you've chosen the way of the polearm. I'm honored. But first, a few ground rules." He held up a finger for every point he made. "One: there will be no special treatment. I'll train you as I train the rest of my men. Two: an order is an order. And, three: if I don't think you're finished, I'll keep running you 'till you're finished. Understood?"

She nodded wordlessly.

"What's that?" he asked, a hand to his ear.

"Yes, sir."

"I can't hear you."

Ahnnie pursed her lips, her face already reddening at the thought of yelling out the acknowledgment while other people were close by. But that was what he was looking for. "Yes, sir!" she bellowed out a moment later, her voice cracking a bit towards the end.

Hargrave chuckled. "Fair enough." He grabbed a halberd off a weapon rack and tossed it vertically in her direction; she made an awkward scrabble for the shaft and it bumped right into the middle of her face. While she was busy rubbing her forehead and nose, Hargrave barked for one of the soldiers to continue leading the drill. Then he took her to one side, and with another halberd in hand, shed all traces of a smile from his face. "We will focus first on basic stances..."

* * *

Corporal Hargrave was a tough but fair teacher. He held true to every point he made, treating those under his command equally, expecting orders to be obeyed as he made them, and hounding Ahnnie relentlessly on her weak points, which were many.

But polearms training was not the only training Ahnnie received in the upcoming days.

After the first three lessons, Cassandra decided to pitch in as her trainer for swordsmanship. It came about after Hargrave noted that while most infantry soldiers used polearms to break enemy defenses, they kept swords as sidearms in case combat got too close for comfort, and so it would be a great handicap not to know how to handle a sword. Therefore, after polearms lessons, which could often go as long as four hours, she followed up with an hour-long session of sword training.

It was actually from there that she reunited with the short sword she'd used at the Temple of Sacred Ashes; a soldier had picked it up after the demons disappeared and kept it safe until she should need it again, perhaps assuming it belonged to her in the first place. She had not been sure whether it really was that very short sword, as it looked no different from the others on the weapon rack; but however it came about, Ahnnie felt a little proud as she unbuckled it every day from her belt and placed it in the chest by the fireplace, where the rest of her things were.

After which she would flop into bed bruised, battered, and aching, and proceed to fall into heavy sleep though the day was not yet finished. After that first lesson with Hargrave, she felt as sore as though she'd just run the national mile. He had not only taught her the basic stances, smacking wayward limbs into place with the butt end of his halberd, but also ran her through warm ups and stretching exercises she hadn't seen since the last time she took P.E. Sore soon became a constant feeling that never went away.

As Leliana predicted, her hand also became tight with blisters and calluses. It was so uncomfortable she asked Hargrave if she could wear gloves while training, but he denied her outright, seeing this as an opportunity to develop pain tolerance. It was only when the blisters burst that he allowed her to use gloves, though she could still feel the pain through them anyway. What made it worse was that, on every other day, she could only catch two hours worth of z's before horseback riding lessons started.

It wasn't that she disliked horses; in fact, the first time Cassandra brought her to the livery stables, her inner girly girl gave a squeal of delight upon meeting the animals and receiving her first lessons on caring for them. However, when it got to the actual horseback riding, which initially started in a round pen before taking place on the endless trails outside Haven, she would end the day not only sore in the arms, hands, and back, but cramped in the legs and, ahem, buttocks.

It was an altogether torturous week. She was lucky her lessons with Sister Magdelene were slowing to a close, for she didn't think she could stay alive after going through all that punishing training _and_ trying to focus on reading and writing assignments at the same time. The sleeping she did in between was her only solace; without it, she barely seemed to have time for anything else, much less the energy.

Then, one day after her combat training, Solas approached her while she lay incapacitated on one of the low stone walls running throughout Haven, too exhausted to even start the walk back to her cabin.

"Tired, aren't we?" he asked with a smile on his face.

Ahnnie raised herself slowly into a sitting position to see who had addressed her. "Oh, Solas," she breathed. "Hi..."

The elf settled himself down on the wall next to her and stared thoughtfully out at Haven for a moment, before saying, "I see you have been rather busy these past few days."

Ahnnie wondered if it was because they hadn't had the chance to talk since the day Cassandra first whisked her into training. "Kind of. It's mostly used for sleeping, though," she admitted.

Solas chuckled. "Of course – sleep is important when training. Has it given you any noteworthy encounters in the Fade?"

She grimaced. "Haha, very funny." He was aware of how fearful she was of the Fade, after all, even though she had come to terms with Thedosian dreams.

"While I do jest, I am also quite serious."

Ahnnie suddenly became more alert than before. She straightened her posture and looked at the elf with widened eyes. "Why? Am I more vulnerable now, or...?"

"Quite the contrary." He gestured briefly at her left hand. "You are probably now more capable than before when it comes to the Fade."

"Oh, my mark..."

"That, and magic."

Ahnnie blinked, his intent now dawning upon her. "You're saying that I can use magic?"

"Why not?" Solas asked back. "Mages tap into the Fade when casting their spells, and your mark ties you to it."

She looked at her left hand, then back at Solas. "But I thought magic is hereditary? When you explained the Circles and how they apprentice children who have the gift..."

"Using your mark to seal rifts is a form of magic," he reminded her. And then he went on, "Even if you can't achieve the same mastery as an actual mage, you might be able to do something. I have been pondering that for a while, in addition to..."

The thought of being able to do magic seemed exciting and daunting at the same time. It was the very subject of novels and movies back home, a wondrous thing of imagination that people wished they could achieve – perhaps better left that way, as it also had the potential to be grossly misused. But when Solas trailed off, Ahnnie became apprehensive. "To what?" she asked.

He frowned. "I have been thinking...and it might actually be possible...but I...I believe you to be Trevelyan's parallel," he finished at last.

"You mean, the guy who got lost in the Fade?"

"Exactly," he affirmed. "Of course, there is every chance that the fact you exchanged places with him is completely random. However, there is just as much of a chance that the die was not cast blindly."

Upon hearing that, Ahnnie's brows deepened in anger. "Who would do such a thing?" she asked, her voice suddenly passionate. "That's just messed up! Playing with people's lives like that...That's...!"

The elf gave her a curious expression, but she did not notice that in her fervor. "I never meant to say it was someone's fault," he said at last. "Perhaps I used the wrong words. What I'm referring to is something beyond mortal ken."

"Spirits, then?" and he couldn't miss the ironic emphasis on 'spirits'.

"More like forces," Solas rebutted. "There is more about the Fade that I've yet to know, though I have learned much." He tilted his head inquisitively. "Would you like to know what I've found out about Trevelyan?"

Ahnnie paused, reflecting on her earlier words, before giving a sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I guess I was just tired. But yes, I'd like to hear what you found."

Solas nodded. "Where his coloring is fair, yours is dark. He has blue eyes, blond hair – you, brown eyes and black hair. Where he is known to be rambunctious and daring, you are reserved and cautious. Where he has led a life of service as a templar, your life is – or has been – one of little to no physical activity." Ahnnie raised a questioning eyebrow, but before she could ask anything, Solas finished with, "And where you have an affinity for dogs, Trevelyan prefers cats."

She was so taken aback by this last revelation that after staring wordlessly at the elf for several seconds, she burst into hearty laughter. It took her a while before she could calm down but Solas was patient, simply smiling at her as she released her mirth. "Ho god!" she breathed as she began to slow down. "Oh – god – sorry," she apologized as she wiped a tear from her eye. "I didn't mean to, I swear. It's just..." She giggled again before clearing out her throat. "Hurm. Right. So, um...Trevelyan is basically my opposite?"

"That is another way to look at it," Solas nodded. "I used 'parallel' to describe a connection between the both of you; I haven't found out everything about him, but the evidence for now seems to point in that direction. It is more deliberate than random mischance, no?"

Ahnnie thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, you're right," she acknowledged. "So then...do you think he's still alive? Is he even in Thedas, or..."

"If he is truly your parallel, then he might be somewhere in your world," Solas supplied. "Assuming, of course, that each parallel must be alive at the same moment. Which I have not yet confirmed," he quickly added when he saw the horror on the girl's face.

She nodded. "Of course." Then, remembering something, she asked, "What about my hand? If he was there when the Breach was created, shouldn't _he_ be the one to have it? Why did I get it?"

"I have pondered that as well," Solas admitted. "It is rather puzzling..." He frowned, then shook his head when an explanation was not forthcoming. "But never mind it for now." He shifted from his spot on the wall, preparing to stand. "In the meantime, what do you say to a little magic practice? See if you have any capabilities for wielding mana?"

At least she knew what mana was, from the fantasy books she read and the few games she'd played. Still, she was doubtful. "What if...I get possessed by a demon?"

He gave her a wry smile. "There are ways to guard oneself against demons and their temptations. If things were as you feared, I would have been possessed long ago." Upon seeing her remorseful expression, he assured her that he would teach her these techniques if she was able to wield magic that far. "But it would be far in the future before you do reach that point, if ever," he added. "You come from a world without magic in the first place, and I don't intend on giving you a full tutelage. Still, a little magic will come in handy, especially for what you have to do."

"I suppose," she relented.

"Very well. We'll start tomorrow after you've rested from combat training."

Ahnnie watched Solas' disappearing form as he walked away, wondering briefly what such lessons would entail, before reclining back down on the wall to continue her nap.

* * *

 **A/N** : Polearms need more love. I got the inspiration after learning that the ko-naginata was often used by women during Japan's feudal era.


	8. Chapter 7

"What have you done with Maxwell?"

The question was sharp, accusatory, and succinct – the eyes hostile and stony, two wells of shimmering blue vehemence.

Ahnnie's mouth worked fruitlessly to make a reply. Her hands grew clammy and her thoughts, scrambled. What should she say? What answer should she give to lessen the damage, now irrevocably done? As the possibilities ran through her mind, she crossed them out one by one. None of them were good. None of them would help. She was no smooth talker; she couldn't think of the right words to save her life.

How could she have let this happen? What signs had she missed, what clues had she overlooked? It was all so unclear, for the more she thought of them, the more she seemed to see pointers that led to this confrontation. And yet, there was no possible way she could have foreseen it with the way things had been going.

* * *

It was a bright and glorious morning. The sun shone resplendently upon Haven, casting a warm glow about the Chantry's stones. A cheery breeze blew through the banners waving upon the Chantry roof and played with the black strands of Ahnnie's hair, tickling her neck most delightfully.

She stood at the entrance with the Commander from the mountain to her right, Cassandra and a dark haired woman in golden ruffles to her left, and Leliana directly behind her. Her right hand was enclosed around the shaft of her new glaive-guisarme, its silvery blade gleaming sharply in the bright sunlight.

And above them all, draped over the Chantry's grand archway, billowed a large brown banner. Embroidered upon it in white was a narrow eye emanating sunrays, pierced by a sword.

"Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who would stand against he chaos–" The Commander's proud voice rang out to the crowd gathered below, soldiers and civilians alike. "Those were the words of the late Divine Justinia. She had intended for the Inquisition to broker peace between the mages and templars if the Conclave failed; now, not only has the Conclave been destroyed, but a greater threat hangs in the sky above our heads."

The people murmured as they looked back towards the mountains north of Haven, where the swirling green light of the Breach illuminated the sky.

"And so it is today that the Inquisition has been reborn. We face not only the continued conflict of the Mage-Templar war, but the Breach, rifts, and demons as well. With the Chantry incapacitated and no other capable authority available, the Inquisition must be the one to bring order back to Thedas."

"We have at our side someone with the power to make it happen," Cassandra began. "A person whom the Maker sent to us in our time of need." She turned to Ahnnie, her hand flaring out at the girl in presentation. "Diễm Anh of the Phạm family, native of another world, the Herald of Andraste!"

Cassandra's pronunciation was hardly on point. The name sounded more like 'Yemen' than the proper 'Yee-um Un', missing the roller coaster tone on Diễm, and simply 'Fom' without much thought to the deep-down tone of Phạm. Ahnnie couldn't blame her, though; she preferred an attempt at her full name than giving out her nickname, which would've been silly considering the occasion.

A cheer went up from the crowd, but it was not universal – an undercurrent of murmurs whispered beneath the wind, faces falling into confusion as they tried to discern what the Seeker meant by 'another world'.

"It is no accident that she appeared when we needed her most," Cassandra went on, "that she came to bear the mark and wield the power to seal the rifts, a feat of magic that surely would have killed any normal person. The Maker saw fit to summon her from her home and his bride, Our Lady Redeemer, led her by hand through the Fade to our troubled world."

"'Tis true! I saw it with my own eyes!" a soldier cried out.

"Andraste herself, shining in white!" another yelled.

"She is the Prophet's chosen!" a villager added.

A chorus of similar claims began to rise until Cassandra silenced them with a patient hand. "But we must remember that she is still mortal; while the Breach has been made stable, it will take a great amount of power to seal it away once and for all."

"For that, the Inquisition must rely on the strength of numbers," the Commander said. "We have the Herald of Andraste, but we need the support of the people. As it is with any great effort, the more people who work together, the better the results. Will you, Haven, stand with us?"

The resulting cheers were as loud as a population the size of Haven could raise. Hope rang in their voices, spilling forth like rushing waters released by a floodgate, and Ahnnie remembered how a month prior such a response would have not been so forthcoming. Perhaps it was what they needed; after such catastrophic events they would be tired of being frightened and unsure, mourning those who had been lost with a bleak outlook for the future. She had to appreciate how the speech both comforted and empowered them with its compelling rhetoric.

"We thank you all for your support," the Commander acknowledged. "It is a valuable thing to have, in times such as these. Be assured the Inquisition will not hold it lightly. The road ahead of us is not an easy one–"

"Those roads rarely are," someone shouted from below.

The Commander chuckled good-naturedly. "Indeed. But we must do what we can. We promise you, Haven, that we will eradicate this threat; there is no alternative, as it is our only option. We either stand together to take down the Breach, or we let it continue and consume our world. What will you have?"

Ahnnie didn't think she had to guess to know what the people chose.

* * *

"You all make me sound like I'm some sort of demigod," she complained to Cassandra once they were within the Chantry walls, the formal announcement already over with.

"Your otherworldly origins are not helping you, in that case," Cassandra countered.

 _I guess I deserved that,_ Ahnnie thought as the comment struck home. They had discussed it several days before the announcement was planned and Leliana had suggested some faraway place at the edge of Thedas as a plausible origin, but Ahnnie wouldn't have it. She wanted to tell the truth. It was as much for her as it was for the people – she was tired of telling lies, and didn't the citizens of Haven deserve better than that? Okay, it was actually more for her as she argued against Leliana, dashing reason to the ground in favor of her own outlandish but true story.

She had followed everything the two women told her to do. She trained her butt off, doing her best to memorize the techniques Hargrave and Cassandra taught her, bulling through all the pain. She stood nice and straight upon the Chantry steps while the Commander and Cassandra addressed the townspeople, saying nary a word since she had no oratory skills, but being present anyway because that was what was needed. She figured being able to tell the truth about herself was the least they could let her do – and besides, when she returned home, telling people she went back to another world made more sense than saying she just disappeared.

For that was what she planned to do: find a way home.

She did not yet know how she would do it, but she promised herself that she would. It gave her the drive to wake up every morning and go through her routine. Anyone in her place surely would have worked to return to the world they once knew. If not for herself, then for her dogs, her brother and sister – the things she still cared about.

As if to change the subject, Cassandra asked her, "Does the mark still trouble you?"

"No," she replied. "It glows if I don't cover it, but that's not really anything bad."

The Seeker nodded. "That sounds good."

 _She still doesn't believe,_ Ahnnie thought as they walked down the Chantry hall. Indeed, she'd tried telling Cassandra and Leliana about Earth...they didn't deny her outright, but they didn't accept her story with open arms, either. They never said it to her face, but she had a feeling they thought she came from some undiscovered land in Thedas instead.

They entered the room where Cassandra, Leliana, and Roderick had been having their argument the day she first woke up in Haven as a free person. This time, however, the Chancellor was not inside. Leliana, the Commander, and the woman in ruffles were the occupants instead, and the wooden table in the middle was laid over with a large, detailed map.

All three looked up at the Seeker and the Herald. Cassandra shut the door behind them and gestured towards the Commander first. "You've met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces."

Commander Cullen nodded towards Ahnnie in acknowledgment. "It was only for a moment on the field," he commented. "I'm pleased you survived."

 _Well, I'm pleased you're not upset with me,_ Ahnnie thought, smiling back politely.

"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat," Cassandra went on, introducing the woman in ruffles.

Lady Josephine's lips curved into a smile, showing the daintiest traces of pearly white teeth. "I've heard much," she remarked, her exotic accent rolling off her tongue in a pleasant way. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

Ahnnie couldn't help but think of how pretty she looked. Coupled with her smooth voice, it seemed no wonder that she was the one to handle the Inquisition's diplomacy.

"And of course, you know Sister Leliana," Cassandra concluded.

Ahnnie nodded, but it was then she realized that she didn't exactly know what Leliana did. It was never given to her.

Leliana was beginning to explain that. "My position here involves a degree of..."

"She is our spymaster," Cassandra interrupted.

Leliana blinked. "Yes," she sighed, exasperated. "Tactfully put, Cassandra."

 _Is that how they joke with each other?_ Ahnnie wondered. It was difficult to tell from the looks on both women's faces. Putting that aside, she turned to the three people across the table – two newly introduced, one reintroduced – and said, "It's nice to meet you all. So, Cassandra said you have a plan..." She looked questioningly over at the Seeker.

"I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good," Cassandra explained.

"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help," Leliana put in.

Commander Cullen turned to her, his brows furrowing. "And I still disagree," he groused. "The Templars could serve just as well." His voice carried a touch of resentment within it, as if they had had this argument many times before and they still wouldn't consider his idea.

Cassandra sighed. "We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark–"

"Might destroy us all," Cullen interjected. "Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so–"

"Pure speculation," Leliana dismissed.

The Commander turned back towards the red haired spymaster, and when he spoke, it was with the air of an insulted man. " _I_ was a Templar. I know what they're capable of."

Ahnnie pursed her lips, feeling awkward about the argument unfolding around her. Before either of them had the chance to say anything else, she asked, "Well...why not both? Surely they can put their differences aside to help with the Breach? I mean, think about it," she added. "Mages have the magical power, Templars have the demon slaying skills – it'd be absolutely perfect!"

Josephine, who seemed to have stayed a neutral party in the others' disagreement, gave her a pitying smile. "If only it were that easy," she lamented, "but unfortunately, neither group will even speak to _us_ yet, much less each other. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically."

 _Why am I not surprised?_ "I guess they still think it was all my fault."

"That is not the entirety of it any longer," Josephine corrected her. "You are aware of how some are calling you the 'Herald of Andraste'? That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you."

"Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt," Cassandra remarked in disgust.

Ahnnie supposed she couldn't blame them. If someone back on Earth went around touting themselves as, say, the 'Herald of Mary' or 'Herald of Jesus', many churches would find that to be blasphemy, too. A supposed magic mark on the hand would make it all the more heretical. It pained her that that was the only thing she could identify with, though.

"It limits our options," Josephine went on. "Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question."

Ahnnie frowned. "So putting the mages and templars aside...can the Chantry do anything to us? And why are they not worried about the Breach? Like, isn't that an even bigger threat to pretty much everybody?"

Cullen shrugged his great armored shoulders. "I wouldn't worry. The Chantry have only words at their disposal–"

"And yet, they may bury us with them," Josephine pointed out.

"–and while they do know the Breach is a threat, they just don't think we can stop it."

"Might I also add that the Chantry is telling everyone you'll only make it worse?" Josephine put in.

Seeing the exasperation on Ahnnie's face, Leliana swooped in to rescue the mood. "There _is_ something you can do," the spymaster began. "A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable."

Ahnnie perked up at this, wondering if she heard Leliana correctly. "A Chantry cleric? Haven't they denounced me, though?"

"I understand she is a reasonable sort," Leliana said. "Perhaps she doesn't agree with her sisters?"

 _True,_ Ahnnie nodded. The nuns here had been quite accepting of her as well. If there were any who disliked her, they hid it skillfully. "Okay...I guess I can give it a shot...where is she?"

Ahnnie had expected 'just outside Haven' or 'somewhere in the town'; she didn't expect Leliana to point to the map on the table at a spot that seemed _many_ miles to the southeast of Haven. "You'll find her tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe," Leliana explained, as if it were merely a matter of running an errand at the local grocery store.

"What...all the way _there?_ " She didn't mean to be rude, but she pointed to where Leliana's finger had been. "How long will that even take?"

"Within the week on horseback, given favorable terrain and conditions," Leliana calculated. "It's not that far."

 _'Not that far'. Leliana, if it has to take us about a week to get anywhere, then yes, it's far!_ Of course, she didn't say that. She simply stayed quiet and resigned herself to the fact that this was what people considered 'not that far' in the era of horses and wagons. With a sigh, she looked up to face the others. "Right. When do we leave?" Then she frowned. "That is...I'm not going alone, right?"

"Of course not," Cassandra assured her. "I will accompany you along with Varric and Solas."

That brightened things considerably. Not that she disliked the Seeker, but Varric and Solas seemed less cold towards her. Their very presences would make the rigors of the road much more enjoyable.

"As to when we leave," Cassandra said, breaking through her thoughts, "there are still a few things to arrange, but we should be ready to go within four day's time."

From across the table, Josephine turned to Ahnnie, a worried expression in her eyes. "Oh, I apologize...Lady Yiemen–"

"Just call me Ahnnie," she interrupted.

"Ahnnie," Josephine corrected herself, "I almost forgot to mention..." Her dark eyes flicked nervously towards Cassandra before returning to the black haired girl, and she said, "Lord Robert Trevelyan, second son of Bann Trevelyan, will be making a...visit, to Haven. I had hoped you would have left by then, but..."

"I still have some business to attend to with Leliana," Cassandra said. "There are certain plans we need to put in order regarding the Hinterlands; whatever else we can do there had best be done in one trip."

"Yes, of course," the ambassador nodded.

A feeling of dread began to weigh down on Ahnnie. "Why is he coming here?" she asked weakly.

"Supposedly he is coming with supplies to aid Haven after the disastrous events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes," Josephine began. "Not that supplies are low, but many had made a pilgrimage here for the Conclave, and he simply wants to do what he can as a pious follower of Andraste. His family are known for their religious devotion as well as their connections to the Chantry, after all."

Considering what had just been discussed, that seemed like more trouble headed their way. "But that's not all there is to it," Ahnnie surmised unhappily.

"Yes, well...he may or may not be coming here to inquire into the disappearance of his youngest brother..."

Cassandra's face darkened. "Yet another move on the Chancellor's part."

"Lord Robert didn't state it explicitly, of course, but it is quite the coincidence that he asked to speak with me during his stay," Josephine rushed to explain. To Ahnnie, she assured, "Though the Chantry has denounced the Inquisition, my family has been maintaining friendly relations with the Trevelyans for quite some time. Therefore, I can handle any negotiations. However–"Ahnnie winced"–if, and it is _highly_ unlikely, but if he does ask you anything...you must deny it completely."

"Explain 'deny'," Ahnnie practically squeaked.

"Deny that you saw his brother in the Fade," Josephine instructed. "The matter of the vision at the Breach cannot be helped, but you must do what you can to refute entirely even the smallest glimpse."

"Claim that you were confused," Leliana added, "and only mistook the man in the Fade for Trevelyan in a moment of distress. Otherwise the Chantry will be able to build upon the rumor of you kidnapping or killing him to make your way here. Partly why I wanted you to avoid saying you were from another world in the first place."

She could still hear the disappointment in Leliana's voice, but ignored it.

"The best course of action, though, is to avoid a confrontation altogether," Cullen put in matter-of-factly. "Simply make yourself scarce; he can't approach you if he can't find you. He also won't come close if it meant people would see him speaking with you."

Ahnnie nodded. _That_ _probably wouldn't look good for someone with connections to the Chantry,_ she thought. _So basically, I should avoid him or stick to crowded areas._

"If you follow their advice, you should have nothing to worry about when we leave for the Hinterlands," Cassandra said with finality, ending the discussion there. "He will be gone long before we return." She then told Ahnnie to go to Hargrave and make up for the lost time spent at the announcement; Ahnnie readily obeyed, though she still worried about what Josephine had told her.

* * *

"Here it is, Lady Ahnnie. Just as you requested."

"Perfect! Thanks, Nala."

"Ooh, can I see, can I see?" Netta begged.

Ahnnie held out the item for her. "It's just the horsehair bundle I asked you to pick for me, remember?"

The little girl held the coarse and frizzy tassel carefully in her hands. "You changed the color," she observed, fingering a lock of the horsehair speculatively.

Ahnnie couldn't help but laugh. "Not me – Nala did. She dyed the horsehair red."

The elven girl blushed. "'Twas nothing, really...but I'm afraid I didn't get it exactly right. It looks too much of a dark rust..."

"Hey, rust is fine," Ahnnie shrugged. "The horsehair was brown to begin with, so I knew it wouldn't turn out completely red. It's just what I need, though. Can I stick it on?"

Nala nodded. "Just be careful not to get any sap on your ladyship's fingers," she quickly warned.

Ahnnie nodded and opened out the strip of gauze to which the horsehair was attached; when she first received her glaive-guisarme, she was immediately beset with an idea that she commissioned the help of Netta and Nala to accomplish. First, she asked Netta to gather as much horsehair as possible; with Flissa's permission, of course. Second, she took the hair and asked Nala if there was any way to dye it red, and also to stick it together onto something for a tassel. The elven girl assured her there were berries she knew of from which she could attain the pigment and set to work on the horsehair, having now finished after three days of dying and gluing.

All three girls sat on a wall outside the tavern, weapons being forbidden to be brandished openly within tavern walls. Ahnnie had the glaive-guisarme standing between her knees, slanted in such a way so that the blade's socket was level with her eyes. She pursed her lips as she observed it for any possible chink to slide the gauze through. She realized it would have been easier if the tassel was attached before the blacksmith finished the weapon, but she hadn't thought of it back then and even if she did, she would have been too timid to make a special request of the blacksmith.

 _It's screwed tight,_ she observed. _Hopefully, the gauze is thin enough..._ she bit down on her lower lip as she tried to edge the gauze through. It went in, much to her delight, and she pushed it in deeper; when the gauze went in as far as it could, she made sure it was enclosed around the circumference of the shaft, pressing down on it to make sure the pine sap stuck, before taking a piece of string from her pocket and tying it as tightly as she could around the horsehair closest to the socket. When she finished, she stood up and told the girls to stand back.

With several practiced movements, Ahnnie lowered herself into a fighting stance and jabbed at an invisible enemy, thrusting and slashing the weapon as savagely as she could to test the bonds of the horsehair. When she finished, she straightened up and observed it carefully; _it hasn't loosened and the string is still in place._ With a smile, she put the glaive-guisarme against the wall and hugged Netta and Nala tightly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she squealed, and then released them.

Netta laughed while Nala grew even redder. "Now your spear is pretty!" Netta exclaimed.

Ahnnie ruffled the little girl's head. "It's not a spear, silly," she teased. "And the horsehair's not just a decoration; elite Chinese warriors put tassels on their polearms so that when they fought, the hair would flare out, confusing the enemy." She figured its addition wouldn't hurt, especially since inexperience was her handicap. She needed to do all she could to balance the odds in her favor; red was also a distracting color and perhaps a nice oriental touch to her weapon, which she had been surprised to find reminiscent in shape to the Chinese guandao.

"Very impressive," an unfamiliar female voice commented. "You don't see many glaives outside of Orlais."

Ahnnie looked up and saw a slim young woman in traveling clothes approaching them, a thoughtful hand cupping her chin as the other hand balanced her elbow. "Uh, thanks," she said, wondering who this woman was – most villagers wouldn't approach her without showing some form of reverence, and they certainly never commented on her weapon. She also seemed different from them somehow; more delicate and cultured. "I don't think I've seen you before," Ahnnie remarked, already starting to guess the dreaded answer.

The young woman smiled. "Eliana. I'm part of Lord Trevelyan's entourage." She tilted her head questioningly. "And you must be..." She gasped, a hand covering her mouth as her eyes widened in excitement. "...the Herald of Andraste! Oh, why didn't I think of it before?"

Ahnnie smiled, trying to ignore the fear at the back of her head. _I thought everyone with Lord Trevelyan was roomed in the Chantry?_ She wouldn't have come outside otherwise. The bann's son had arrived early that morning in a flourish of wagons and people, large enough to make an impressive entourage but small enough to be accommodated in the moderate church building. Then she remembered that it didn't stop them from going to places like the tavern. _I'm so stupid._

"You should have known," Netta reprimanded Eliana. "Her skin is gold, and she–"

Ahnnie interrupted the child with a nervous laugh. "That's, um, an exaggeration. I mean, don't...well, uh...I'm just a person," she finished lamely, too nervous to think straight.

Eliana waved it away casually. "Oh no, it's quite all right. I've heard the rumors and I knew some of them were far-fetched. Still, they are right about one thing; you _are_ young." She gave the girls a smile and said, "I didn't mean to disturb your fun. I was just on my way to the tavern. I'll get out of your hair now; it was an honor meeting you, Herald of Andraste."

Ahnnie blinked. "You don't hate me?"

Eliana jolted. "Hate – no! I would not dare!" When she realized what Ahnnie was talking about, she said, "I believe you are truly the Herald of Andraste. My master may not, but that doesn't mean I have no opinions of my own. Don't tell him that, of course."

"I won't," Ahnnie promised. She returned the young woman's friendly smile as she made her way to the Singing Maiden's door. Netta giggled and gave Eliana a wave while Nala timidly stood aside and bowed her head once in deference.

 _I hope I never have to encounter him in the first place,_ Ahnnie thought with a shudder. With luck, the next three days would pass by quickly and without incident.

* * *

"Now, hook the blade!"

Ahnnie thrust the head of her glaive towards the sword, trapping it between the reverse side and the tapered hook jutting from it, the part that the Orlesians referred to as the 'guisarme'.

"And what do you do next?" Hargrave quizzed.

Ahnnie gave her answer by twisting the glaive-guisarme in a sweeping downward motion, forcing the trapped blade to bend along until it flew out of the opposing soldier's hands. Disarmed, the soldier stepped back, signaling the end of that segment of training.

"Very good," Hargrave praised. "You remembered the answer to each question this time."

"Thank you, sir," Ahnnie thanked stiffly. That was how Hargrave preferred for her to speak to him when she was his student and not the Herald of Andraste. While she mostly put on a blank face, she couldn't help but remember the many times she had gotten the answers to his 'questions' wrong and suffered for it with extra exercises.

"You are dismissed," he then said.

So she was getting off early for once. Brimming with relief, and yet too wary of the Corporal to show it, she barked, "Yes, sir!" and bowed briefly before strapping her weapon onto her back and turning to leave the training grounds. The bow was more of her personal touch, a remnant of her earlier childhood days when she had to cross her arms and bow in formal greeting to older family members. She never meant to do it, but every time she met or left Hargrave, she felt an inner compulsion to dip her torso in addition to yelling out the military acknowledgment.

Wiping the sweat off her forehead, Ahnnie bounded for the Singing Maiden's stables to say hello to Lady, perhaps even play with Netta a bit. She was tired, but not anywhere near as exhausted as she had been that first week of training. She could hardly believe it, but her body was steadily growing accustomed to all this activity. Where she used to be constantly sore, she was now occasionally sore; the exercise was even enjoyable at times.

She rounded the bend that led her down to Haven's second tier; but just as she made the curve, she saw the shape of a man's chest too late to dodge and smacked right into his dark tunic. With a startled yelp, she fell back on the ground, the shaft of her polearm digging painfully into her spine.

 _Shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..._ Ahnnie shot up, angling herself to her feet a little awkwardly because of the long polearm behind her, and began stuttering out her apologies to the big man as fast as she could.

For when she laid eyes on his face, she knew that she had just made a big mistake.

Lord Robert Trevelyan glanced down upon the smaller girl, his stoic face denoting little of his thoughts. It did not help that his aquiline features and angular, ice blue eyes made him look even fiercer; kind of like Cassandra, she thought, although his face was less severe at the cheeks. Unlike Ahnnie, he had not been very affected by the sudden bump, so he was able to keep to his feet with perhaps a slight stumble back.

"Hmm," he grunted. The lord pushed a stray blond curl from the corner of his left eye and walked off a moment later, making Ahnnie wonder whether she should be lucky he spared no words for her or humiliated that he considered her too unimportant to bother with. At any rate, he had not asked about his brother, which she supposed was a good thing.

"Here comes the Herald!" Varric greeted her jovially when she entered the Singing Maiden a moment later, just after storing her weapon in a small closet space Flissa permitted her to use whenever she came by. She intended to make for the side door to the stables, but upon seeing Varric cheerfully waving her over, she shrugged and joined him at his table instead. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" he grinned as he laid his mug of ale down.

Ahnnie smiled weakly. "More like the lord did..." When he didn't get her joke, she clarified, "I just bumped into Lord Trevelyan. Like, literally."

Varric simply shrugged. "Worse things have happened. Was he upset?"

"I...think? He stared at me for a while, then he said 'Hmm', and then he left."

"Yup," Varric nodded, "he's upset."

Ahnnie gulped. "How do you know?"

"Nobles; the very masters of passive-aggressiveness. I mean, there're different kinds of them," Varric added, "but they all have that talent down to some degree. You'll know once you deal with them more often."

She made a face that denoted she didn't wish to deal with them at all. A serving maid then came by and reverently asked the Herald if she wanted anything to quench her thirst or sate her hunger; she frowned upon hearing her title and waved the maid away almost tersely, displeased with all the trouble this Herald business seemed to be giving her.

"You sure you don't want anything?" Varric asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ahnnie shrugged. "I'm fine, really." There was plenty of water back at her cabin, and she even had a pot she could use to cook up something edible from the rations stored there. Except for that first meal in the tavern, Ahnnie had been able to eat at the Chantry and later, on her own when she discovered the pot, though she had mostly relied on the Chantry since training started because of the little time she had. She supposed dining with the nuns was not an option anymore, now that Lord Trevelyan was staying there.

The serving maid left and she fell into small talk with Varric. It was comforting, at least, and she was able to get in a laugh or two. Then her ears were suddenly assaulted by a cringeworthy, high-pitched squeal that made her almost fall back on her own chair.

"Is it really...Are you _the_ Varric Tethras? Author of _Hard in Hightown_?"

Ahnnie blinked, suddenly realizing that the squeal earlier was that of a Thedosian fangirl. _I guess they're the same on Earth and here,_ she jokingly thought. When she turned around, her surprise took a double hit to find that this fangirl was none other than Eliana.

"The very same," Varric answered with a flourish.

"I knew it!" Eliana exclaimed. When she realized half the tavern was staring at her, she cleared her throat and said, less loudly, "I mean, it's an honor to meet you. I'm E– " her voice caught. "Eliana," she corrected with a clearance of her throat. "Really, I–"

The dwarf gestured for her to sit, and the young woman happily complied.

"First, I meet the Herald of Andraste," Eliana began, her voice brimming with excitement, "and now I meet my all-time favorite author! I am just stunned right now, I...!" She trailed off, breathless, before continuing in a smaller voice, as if she couldn't contain herself, "This has been the best trip. _Ever_."

Varric chuckled and Ahnnie smiled, a little grateful for once that someone else elicited the more extreme reaction. But this newest revelation made her turn to the dwarf curiously. "You never told me you wrote a book," she began.

Eliana stared at her in shock. "You mean to say you've never read any of his works?"

"Then, you've written more than one?" Ahnnie asked Varric.

Varric put up two hands defensively. "It's not like I was hiding it from you. You just never asked."

 _Well, now I'm curious!_ "What kind of books do you write?"

Taking a swig from his mug, the dwarf answered, "I've tried my hand at a few genres. My crime serials are my most popular. _Hard in Hightown_ , as this young lady mentioned." He gestured with his head towards Eliana. "Guards breaking the rules to get things done. _The Tale of the Champion_ is the most famous thing I've ever written," he remarked, "or infamous, maybe. I started a romance serial once, _Swords and Shields..._ but let's be honest, I don't have a knack for romances. Most of my stories end in tragedy." Varric shrugged. "Probably that says something unfortunate about me personally."

"Naw, you're the most cheerful person I know," Ahnnie assured him, but when he smiled in return, there seemed to be more than she knew going on behind his eyes; she quickly wondered whether she had said the wrong thing or hit a sensitive spot, but since he didn't say anything, she decided against openly apologizing.

"You have not lived until you've read one of his books," Eliana said to Ahnnie, snapping her out of those thoughts. "In fact, I brought _Hard in Hightown_ along with me – it's so good, I'm reading it for...the hundredth time, really," she admitted. "How about I let you borrow it?"

Ahnnie stared at her, wide-eyed. "You would...let me borrow it?"

Eliana shrugged. "Why not? I doubt this place sells it." She gestured vaguely at the tavern, although Ahnnie understood she meant to say the town of Haven, specifically. "I didn't see a bookstore, not that anyone here besides the Chantry sisters knows how to read...no offense."

"I'll be leaving soon, though," Ahnnie said, "and you aren't staying long, either. I couldn't possibly impose on you."

Eliana tilted her head inquisitively. "You're going somewhere?"

"In two days, I have to leave for the Hinterlands."

The young woman nodded slowly, her face thoughtful. "I see..." A moment later, she looked back up at Ahnnie and said, "It won't be too much trouble. You can give it back to me before you go; a little bit of reading is better than no reading at all. It's that good of a book. Hopefully, you can pick up a copy later."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely! Of course, I'd like to get it signed by the author first." Eliana turned to Varric hopefully.

The dwarf smiled. "Anything for a fan."

* * *

 _Mana is not a thing to be taken lightly. Many mages have made the mistake of becoming overconfident,_ _rushing themselves into powerful spells believing that they can handle the magic..._ _true mastery lies in patience and understanding, as much as it does in ambition._

Solas' words rang in Ahnnie's mind as she sat on the steps outside her cabin, half-lidded eyes cast on the stone beneath her feet and her body held in a relaxed posture as she focused on the breathing exercise that he taught her.

Funny how he used the words 'true mastery' when, as he said specifically, he did not intend to teach her fully and she might not be able to practice magic fully anyways. However, she caught the gist of his words, and could see the rationale behind starting slowly. _Was this how he learned to use his magic?_ she wondered as she inhaled and exhaled in a slow, deliberate pattern.

At first, she had been unable to feel anything; it was just a boring and empty practice, kind of like meditating; but unlike meditating, her mind was allowed a measure of awareness, and after the first few times she was able to streamline her thinking along with the inner calm that she would feel perhaps five minutes into the breathing. Eventually, she began to feel a tiny spark...a little pinprick of tingling energy hidden deep inside her...and every time she did so, her mark would glow a little more brightly.

When she asked if it was mana, Solas nodded and pointed out that, with the mark connecting her to the Fade, she was able to tap into a little well of it, just as he'd surmised. As for the power that allowed her to seal the rifts, perhaps that was something exclusive when it came to tears in the Veil. He soon had her doing the breathing exercises again, only this time he encouraged her to try to move the mana to different parts of her body, her hands specifically.

Ahnnie's eyes went wide and she jumped back when the mark suddenly sizzled and brightened. Almost at once, her mana concentration broke and the magic fled back into her center. She looked warily at her palm, glad to see the mark quickly returning to normal, yet still very shaken.

 _I could barely get any in my right hand,_ she thought, reflecting on what had just happened, _and I was never able to move it that far before...it's almost like...like my left hand just_ sucked _it all up for itself._

"That's enough magic practice for now," she murmured to herself as she tried to rid her ears of the electric sound. "Solas would understand."

Her hand reached behind her for a hard, leatherbound book with a picture of a muscular man under a full moon painted or printed on the cover; she wasn't too sure of Thedas' printing technology to tell.

"Who's Solas?" a cheerful voice asked from behind her, causing her to almost drop the book in shock.

"Eliana!" Ahnnie exclaimed with a laugh when she turned around. "Gosh, you scared me."

The young woman sat down beside her, brushing a strand of brunette hair back under her cap. "Sorry," she apologized. "I just saw you sitting here with _Hard in Hightown_ and wondered how you liked it."

 _Was she walking around here?_ Ahnnie wondered. She thought she would avoid any encounters with Lord Trevelyan by sticking close to her cabin, as he most likely wouldn't know where it was located. There was only a day left before she would depart for the Hinterlands and she didn't want to risk spoiling her luck. Of course, she wasn't purposefully avoiding Eliana, so it was a pleasant surprise that the young woman found her way here. "Solas is a mage who's helping us," Ahnnie explained. "And yeah, I really like it! I'm excited to find out who killed Magistrate Dunwald – his wife seems kind of sketchy."

"Varric's writing is so vivid. You just feel yourself being pulled into the story, like it's actually happening, don't you?"

Ahnnie nodded.

Eliana sighed contentedly. "And now I have it signed, in his own hand! My friends will be so jealous."

Indeed, scrawled onto the first page of the book were the runic letters that made up Verric Tethras' name, written boldly yet eloquently in crisp black ink.

"Do you miss Ostwick?" Ahnnie then asked.

"Not really," Eliana confessed. "I'm just going on a short trip with Lord Trevelyan and will be back soon, so it's not like I'm homesick."

"Oh." _Well, that was a stupid question..._ "So, what do you do for him?"

She shrugged. "Not much. I guess you could say I'm part of his guard, though here I'm just helping out with distributing the supplies, fetching this or that...kind of boring, really. Of course, not when I'm in the Herald of Andraste's or Varric Tethras' company," she added with a knowing smile. When Ahnnie blushed, Eliana asked her, "So what do _you_ do, as the Herald?"

"Me? Well, I..." She rubbed the back of her head nervously. "Training. I go through extensive training early in the day with Corporal Hargrave and Lady Cassandra so that I know how to fight. Every other day, I also have horseback riding, which I just finished two hours ago," she chuckled while rubbing her sore lower back. "And some time ago, I had literacy studies with Sister Magdalene because I couldn't read the words here...but it's done now, so those are just the three things I'm occupied with." Ahnnie shrugged. "Kind of boring, really."

"Is that all?" Eliana asked, as if she couldn't quite believe that was the extent of it.

"Yup," Ahnnie nodded. She wasn't sure if she should let out that she was also practicing some magic, however small, so she pointedly said nothing of it.

"Huh. Who would've thought." Eliana shook her head. "Sorry, it's just – the rumors they have of you back home. Supposedly, you fight demons every day, performing heroic acts left and right, or you're plotting to raze the Chantry down to the ground, mercilessly slaughtering innocent Chantry sisters and brothers."

"Um..."

"Like I said, I knew some of them were far-fetched," Eliana smiled. "It's good to be able to see the truth for myself. And to be honest with you...it's not bad. Not exciting, not horrifying, just regular, like anyone else – and I kind of like it that way."

Ahnnie slowly smiled back. "Yeah. Me too."

* * *

 _An immediate matter has rendered me unavailable for sword practice today. Meet with Lady Josephine instead, as she is to begin teaching you some basics in diplomacy. She can be found in her office at the Chantry._

 _-Cassandra_

Ahnnie finished reading the note, slowly mouthing the words along, and lowered it with a stunned look on her face. "Is this true?" she asked Nala in a quiet tone, so that Corporal Hargrave, having just dismissed her and standing nearby, would not hear the fear in her voice.

"I would not lie to your ladyship," Nala whispered back. "The Lady Seeker pressed it into my hand as I was making my way across the square and bade me find you after your practice..." She fidgeted. "If you'll please excuse me, I must get back to Master Adan at once."

Ahnnie nodded. "Right. Sorry."

"Oh no, 'twas nothing, Lady Ahnnie!" Nala assured her in that trademark skittish manner of hers before giving her a "By your leave" and rushing off in another direction.

Once alone, Ahnnie sighed. It was not the idea of diplomacy lessons with Josephine that she feared, but the thought of going into the Chantry where Trevelyan and the rest of his entourage were... _Would I bump into him? What if he sees me? Oh...didn't Cassandra know any of this?_

Yet she knew it wasn't Cassandra's fault. They were all well aware, though it was possible that with the date of departure coming tomorrow, they were assured that nothing untoward might happen; that, and she had been thoroughly instructed in what to say. It would mean they put a certain amount of trust in her and the thought made her balk. _I mean, I know what to say, but...will stuttering make it worse?_

She couldn't stop all these thoughts from racing in her head as she went back to her cabin to deposit her glaive-guisarme there before making her way to the Chantry. Once inside, she asked a Chantry sister, one whom she knew to be friendly with her from the times she'd taken her meals there, for the location of Lady Josephine's office. The nun led her to a door leading into a neat little room lit with cheerful torchlight.

"Ah, there you are, Lady Ahnnie!" Josephine greeted her. "Please, have a seat. Now, I know this has come on short notice, but let us see what we can learn..."

An hour later, her head swimming with all the do's and don'ts of speaking with nobles, she exited Josephine's office feeling more than a little overwhelmed. _How does she even keep track of all those rules?_ Ahnnie thought, her hand behind her in the act of closing the office door. _And she looks like she even enjoys it–_

A sudden shadow looming over her filled her with an ominous dread. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and looked up ever so slowly at the figure blocking the light, hoping with all her heart it was just one of the guards...

The cold blue eyes of Lord Robert Trevelyan looked down upon her, making her want to gulp but she didn't, for fear of portraying an unease that might be misinterpreted; especially after learning all those things from Josephine. And if what the ambassador told her was true, then she couldn't just stand there gawking silently at the lord either.

After a few silent seconds, Ahnnie cleared her throat. "Lord Trevelyan," she began with a nod in his direction.

The corner of his lip twitched ever-so-lightly in what was either amusement or contempt. "Yemen," he said a moment later, and she was wondering why he said that until she remembered he was saying her name and not the Arabic country of Yemen. That mispronunciation of her name still took some getting used to.

She smiled politely and bowed her head again. "By your leave," she said as pleasantly as possible, parroting Nala. "My lord," she added, and ducked past the big man.

"No insistence upon using your formal title?" he suddenly asked, freezing her again. The tone he used was like that of a teacher reprimanding a truant student, and it worked. "How humble, for a blasphemer."

According to Josephine, Lord Trevelyan had not just openly insulted her, but he was showing – at least, with no one else around – that he thought little of her reputation and was not afraid to wound her with the realization. Unfortunately, Josephine had not taught her any useful quips in these situations; she just demonstrated them.

"I have never been prideful to begin with," Ahnnie drawled out carefully to keep from stuttering. "People just started calling me that after I..." She cleared her throat. "...sealed the first rift at the Breach."

"Really, now," he said coolly, and Ahnnie mentally facepalmed when she realized what she'd done.

 _You stupid idiot! You mentioned the damn Breach – now he'll have no choice but to mention his brother!_

Her heart hammered in her chest and she almost forgot to breathe. With a quick inhalation, she turned back towards the lord and smiled as cordially as she could. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer," she apologized just as slowly as she'd spoken. "I wish you a good day, my lord."

"Yes, of course," he said in the politest alternative to a sneer. "I trust you have many things to do. You are a busy person, after all."

She knew she should not listen to his barbed words, but somehow they hurt, like an uncomfortable pin sticking from a chair she happened to be sitting on. _Nonsense,_ she thought as she walked. _I should be relieved. He's not dragging it on..._

"E–" Lord Trevelyan suddenly said, and Ahnnie froze yet again. Almost instinctively, she turned back around, although every voice in her mind was screaming against the decision.

 _Oh, it's just Eliana,_ Ahnnie thought upon seeing the young woman's lithe figure appear in the hall. _Maybe he was going to order her to do something? But why was he cut off?_ She turned back around and went on her way. _Perhaps she just knew what he wanted her to do before he said it...Josephine did say nobles often acted like they expected people to read their minds..._

She was halfway to her cabin, replaying the icy encounter in her mind on repeat, when a hand took hold of her shoulder. Ahnnie gasped and even let out a little scream, for she suddenly envisioned Lord Robert Trevelyan at her back, preparing to either interrogate her on his brother's whereabouts or to kill her on the spot with his sword.

It was just Eliana.

"I'm sorry," the brunette apologized. "Are you all right?"

Ahnnie stared at her, wide-mouthed, before letting out an anxious laugh. "N-no, I'm sorry...I thought you were...someone else."

"Lord Robert Trevelyan, by any chance?"

Ahnnie nodded. "Yeah..."

"I thought you'd had an encounter back there," Eliana said. "When I came in and I saw the both of you...I know my lord when he's being smug. I've seen that face."

Ahnnie shook her head. "It's okay, I was just...I'm just not used to dealing with nobles yet. I guess I handled it pretty well if he didn't get too upset...not that I'd know..." She looked back at the young woman questioningly. "I'm not holding you up from something, am I? I think Lord Trevelyan needed you..."

"Oh, it's already been done," Eliana said, waving the matter away. "Are you busy with anything?"

"No, I'm just heading for my cabin to take a break."

Eliana seemed to brighten at this. "You have a cabin here? Is it too much to ask to take a peek?"

Ahnnie chuckled sheepishly. "Oh, it's not anything really...just a one-room structure. Probably even smaller than where you live in Ostwick."

"Still, I'd like to see where the Herald of Andraste lives!" She looked around, as if to make sure no one was looking. "None of my colleagues are around, and the townspeople are scarce."

"Okay..." What was the harm? Eliana had been nothing but friendly towards her. Perhaps this sudden interest was meant to make her feel better, and she had to admit that it was working. _Makes me remember when I still had school friends to bring over,_ Ahnnie thought wistfully. Eliana did not seem that much older than her anyway...twenty-five at most.

They both walked the remaining way down the path to Ahnnie's cabin, conversing animatedly about the latest developments Ahnnie read of in _Hard in Hightown_ or their favorite characters. Ahnnie personally thought she could relate to Jevlan, the clumsy green recruit who'd just joined the guard force; Eliana confessed a certain interest in the intriguing character of Lady Marielle, the dead Magistrate Dunwald's pretty wife.

As for Donnen Brennokovic, neither could deny that he was a universal favorite character, and not just because he was the main one – his gritty determination and hard wit made him every bit the salty guardsman whose unscrupulous methods promised to save the day where abiding by the rules wouldn't. Whenever Ahnnie read his dialogue, she imagined him speaking in Varric's smoky voice.

"Well, here we are," Ahnnie said as they approached her cabin door. She unlocked it and pushed it open. "Don't get your hopes too high, though."

Both young women stepped in, Ahnnie taking off her shoes out of habit while Eliana gazed fascinated around the tiny one-room space, as if it held a chamberful of treasure.

"Please, just make yourself at home," she told Eliana as she made sure the door was shut; it wouldn't do for the chill wind to blow it open later. "Are you thirsty? I can make some tea...don't know if you'll like it though..." She walked past the young woman towards a corner in the room where the kettle lay and rummaged through a sack for some tea leaves. Then, just as she rose to go get water from a barrel, Eliana gave her a hard blue stare.

"Now that we're alone, tell me: what have you done with Maxwell?"

* * *

Which brought them back to the present. Ahnnie was no Sherlock, but she was able to deduce somewhat that Maxwell was the youngest Trevelyan's name. Why would Eliana ask about him otherwise, and in such a condescending tone?

She lowered the kettle onto the flat top of a sack. As she processed all the events of the previous few days, she thought with dry amusement about how she'd done all she could to avoid Lord Trevelyan's questioning and yet still managed to end up under scrutiny by one of his household.

"Maxwell was his name, wasn't it?" she asked Eliana quietly.

" _Is_ ," the brunette insisted harshly. "He's not dead. Not unless you killed him."

Ahnnie cursed herself for that mishap; though Maxwell Trevelyan was most likely dead, it was impolite to speak of him that way to someone with connections to him. _Josephine would not be pleased._ "I'm sorry, Eliana, I didn't mean–"

"Evelyn," Eliana cut her off. "Evelyn Trevelyan, only daughter of Bann Trevelyan."

Ahnnie's eyes widened. "What...?"

"You wouldn't have been so open with me otherwise." Evelyn smiled coldly. "Did you think this 'secret' of yours wouldn't come to light? When Chancellor Roderick wrote to Father, he was absolutely livid." She crossed her arms, the harsh blue of her eyes reminding Ahnnie of Robert's ice cold orbs. "You are not a demon, as the Chancellor says, but that doesn't mean you're not hiding anything. I'm a spirit medium; I should know."

A mage! Even worse! Ahnnie hadn't heard Solas mention spirit mediums, but she was sure if Eliana – or Evelyn – specialized in something with spirits in it, she was most likely a mage by Thedosian standards. _Can she tell if I'm hiding something?_ Ahnnie wondered. _Or was that in relation to my not being a demon?_

"Well, Herald of Andraste?" she asked, and this time, there was a sarcastic emphasis on the title. "What have you got to say for yourself?" A few moments later, Evelyn's bravado disappeared as an incensing thought made her hands clench. "I swear, if you killed him..."

"I didn't kill anybody," Ahnnie hurriedly said. "In fact, I didn't even see–"

Yes, she had been about to follow up Josephine and Leliana on their advice. No, she could not go through with it. The situation scared her, and she was loathe to think of what Evelyn's wrath could bring down upon her even with no staff by her side (for Solas had said it was possible for mages to manipulate mana without a staff), but suddenly she thought of how Evelyn was doing this because she cared for Maxwell – how Lord Robert was here in the first place, because the Trevelyan family was concerned. They were nobles and cared about their names, but at the core of it, they must have really loved Maxwell...or at least, Evelyn did.

In that case, could she really bring herself to lie to Evelyn? To trample on a grieving family's emotions to save her own skin?

"What? What didn't you see?" Evelyn prompted her when no answer was forthcoming.

Ahnnie opened and closed her mouth, her conscience still waging a tennis match between the two options: deny, or accept. Deny, or accept. In the end, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Okay!" she blurted out rather forcefully. "Sorry, that was more for me than at you." Opening her eyes again, she looked up at Evelyn. "What I meant to say was...I didn't do anything to your brother. But I did see him in the Fade."

With a deep breath, she continued: "All I know is, after I got swept into the Fade myself, I bumped into him briefly and had to run from giant spiders. Demons, I think. Then a shining woman pulled me out, and here we are." She made a gesture of finality with her hand. Then she sighed. "I know that's probably not the answer you want. It's the only one I can give, though. I won't say I know what you're going through, but I understand it must be hard...and it's especially difficult, because you weren't there to see what happened to confirm it, so of course you suspect I did something...

"But that's all I have to say in my defense, because I honestly don't know more. I didn't think it would be fair to say otherwise; you deserve the truth." She gave a faint smile. "I would want the same, if it were my own younger siblings..."

Evelyn blinked, obviously not expecting that. Still, she didn't seem entirely convinced. "This is quite a new tactic..."

"Think of it what you want," Ahnnie dismissed with a wave. "I'm done worrying my head off. Do you know how tense I've been these past few days? And then Josephine's teaching me how to speak in metaphors and half-truths to establish goodwill with visiting dignitaries–" Those were words quoted directly from the ambassador herself. "Honestly? I suck at all that, and I feel much better now that I've told you the truth." _I guess this is what they mean by 'the truth will set you free'._ _It's probably going to get me in a boatload of trouble, though._

Well, so be it. It had come to this, and it would stay that way.

Evelyn was quiet for a while. Her eyes, though still quite furious, lost their edge and focused elsewhere as she ran the girl's words through her mind. Ahnnie fidgeted, unsure of what to do, before turning back to the kettle and going back to the water barrel to fill it as she had previously intended. Even if Evelyn wouldn't have any tea, Ahnnie could use a nice, steaming cupful.

"He was the only one who cared to remember that I existed in the Ostwick Circle," Evelyn suddenly said.

Ahnnie looked up, having just finished filling the kettle with water.

"Little baby brother, always asking for big sister Evie, whether I was at the Circle or visiting home...I guess it's because I played with him, when Robert and Philip wouldn't be bothered with a noisy little child..."

Ahnnie pursed her lips, wondering whether she should say something, and then went to hang the kettle on the hook over the fire.

"Do you know what he said to me, when he was five? 'One day I'll become a Templar, Evie, and join you at the Circle so you won't have to be so alone.' The little fool; he actually thought I was cooped up alone in a tower, just because family didn't visit often...and when he turned eighteen, he actually did it. Like a true Templar, he kept to his word..."

Ahnnie only nodded, for what else could she say? She was surprised, however, when she heard a little sniffing. "Evelyn?" she asked softly.

The brunette wiped at her eyes. "It's nothing," she quickly dismissed. "I was getting sentimental. Damn, I didn't imagine it going this way...you were supposed to be quailing in your boots...or socks," she corrected when she noticed Ahnnie's bootless feet. She bit down on her lower lip to stifle another onslaught of emotion, but failed when she squeaked, "Oh Maker, why wasn't it me at the Conclave instead?" and covered her face.

Ahnnie's heart clenched when she saw the mage's shoulders shake in sorrow. She slowly came forward, wondering if Evelyn was still cross with her, before reaching slowly around the young woman, loosely embracing her. "It's okay," she murmured as she pat Evelyn's back. "Everything will be all right." She considered saying he might even be safe in her world right now, but doubted it was appropriate for someone who suspected her a moment ago. "So, did you get the idea for your code name from Sister Leliana's?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

Evelyn choked out a strangled laugh. "How did you know?"

"I just realized it...Leliana without the 'ulluh' sound."

"I couldn't help it," Evelyn sniffed. "I thought it was pretty."

"Indeed, it is," Ahnnie agreed.

The Trevelyan pulled out of her hug a moment later, her sobs reduced to occasional sniffles. "Thank you...I suppose I needed to do that...I'd been keeping it all bottled up, ever since..." She shook her head. With a deep sigh, she recomposed herself and looked into Ahnnie's eyes. "Maker's breath. This was really unexpected...you are...truly, something else. I'll tell my brother you're not a demon, for starters."

Ahnnie frowned confusedly.

"Ah, he asked me to get close to you to sense if you were a demon," Evelyn explained. "This quest for truth was my own idea...he wouldn't have approved, but I just couldn't contain myself."

"So you believe me?"

Evelyn studied her a moment, before answering, "You know, I don't know what to think, exactly...but you were so blunt, and from what I've seen of you these past few days..." She gave the girl a weak smile. "I suppose I do?"

Ahnnie felt relief flood through her body.

"And to be fair, I won't tell him that you saw Max in the Fade...he would not take the news very lightly. I think you were advised against admitting it, weren't you?" When Ahnnie nodded, she went on, "I can't have my family making a big fuss for the Inquisition, not when I intend to join it."

Upon hearing that, Ahnnie's jaw dropped wide open. "You what?" she blurted out.

Evelyn chuckled. "I know. Crazy. But I think...I think this is what I have to do, if I want to find out what happened to Max. I had a hunch he still lived, as his spirit couldn't be sensed...then again, it's not always one meets the spirits of the deceased in the Fade." She smiled sheepishly at Ahnnie. "You know when I found you sitting outside your cabin yesterday? I felt the thrum of magic and followed it to you. So perhaps...you could help me?"

"I think you'll have to talk to Solas about that," Ahnnie suggested to her. "He's the expert on the Fade."

"Perfect! Well, I'll have to go now...can't keep my brother waiting. I won't be able to join the Inquisition right away without causing a stir, but I'll enlist when I can."

"We'll be glad to have you," Ahnnie assured the mage, and she felt ecstatic that things seemed to work out even better than she expected... _but I don't think Josephine's going to be very happy when I tell her what I just did._

* * *

 **A/N:** Map calculations based on the handy-dandy interactive map of Thedas by bendingwind at 60km/day & based on the fact that Thedas should be slightly larger than the dev's statement (i.e, that Ferelden is roughly the size of England).


	9. Chapter 8

"How long will you be gone for?" Netta asked, pouting.

Ahnnie smiled and pat the little girl on the head. "Probably for a few weeks," she answered truthfully. Feeling a soft, wet sensation on her other hand, she looked down to see Lady sniffing and licking her fingers. She couldn't help but smile as she gave the dog a hearty scratch behind the ears.

"That's a long time!" Netta whined.

"Come now, Netta, don't be like that," Flissa chided.

Feeling sorry for her, and partly responsible for her displeasure, Ahnnie knelt down so that she was level with the little girl's face and held her hand encouragingly. "Hey, before you know it, it'll go by in a flash. In the meantime, be good for your mama, okay?"

"You heard her," Flissa added. "Now step back and don't get in the way."

Netta obeyed with a sullen nod. "Yes, Mama," she said in a deflated tone.

Ahnnie straightened up and put her left foot in the stirrup; with a strong push, she swung her right leg over to the other side of the saddle. Her smoky grey mount snorted, pawing at the ground. With a tug of the reins, Ahnnie swung the horse around so that it was facing the others: Varric on his sorrel mountain pony, Solas on a graceful dun, and Cassandra on a stocky dark bay.

"Everyone is ready?" Cassandra inquired. Her tone made it sound like both a question and a statement; it was foolish to have mounted a steed and yet be unprepared for the journey ahead, but in case anyone forgot anything, now was the time to remember it. When she received nothing but nods in return, she swung her bay around to take the lead, and with a click of her tongue, the horse ambled into a steady walk.

The other animals followed suit, taking the initiative from the lead horse. The gates of Haven lay open before them, and Cassandra's horse began to take the first few steps beyond the threshold. Ahnnie turned around in her saddle to look back at the town; Netta waved to her, as well as Flissa, and she waved back. Her eyes moved even farther back to the Chantry, and though she couldn't see Evelyn, she could rest easy with the knowledge that the Ostwick mage's copy of _Hard in Hightown_ had been properly returned.

Ahnnie turned back to the road ahead, coming in third behind Solas as the gate posts went by her vision. Upon thinking of Evelyn, she immediately thought of Josephine and how flustered the poor woman had been when she heard of the confrontation in the cabin (right at the moment she was dealing with an unpleasant missive from the Marquis DuRellion, too)...but since it appeared Evelyn kept her promise, everything seemed to be all right. Lord Trevelyan would leave on the morrow, having finished his charitable duty (and the Marquis would be made to see reason in letting the Inquisition stay in Haven).

All that was left was to sit back and let the horse do the walking.

* * *

They settled that night in an old wooden shack built conveniently to the side of the road, one of the few rest houses for travelers going up and down the mountain. It had little besides a few tools, some firewood, and blankets, but it served its purpose as a shelter well enough.

Cassandra taught Ahnnie how to build a fire in front of the shack, as it had neither chimney nor fireplace, while Varric unpacked the rations and Solas spread out the bedrolls on the shack floor. As they used flints, it didn't take forever as Ahnnie had imagined, rubbing sticks together fruitlessly for hours, but Cassandra promised to teach her how to do that once they were off the frigid mountain and more tinder was available nearby.

 _How to make the fire, or how to waste time looking like an idiot?_ Ahnnie wondered.

The thought was put aside when they sat around the fire to have their supper. Varric thought up of the ingenious idea of skewering some bread and cheese and holding it over the fire to 'toast' it, which made the seemingly bland rations a little more enjoyable. Paired with some strips of tough dried meat, she was soon made full and hugged her knees as she warmed herself by the fire, closing her eyes as she basked in its heat.

"Excited?" Varric suddenly asked her.

Ahnnie opened her eyes. "Hmm?"

"For the trip," he clarified.

"Oh. Yeah," she nodded. "It's the first time I ever went somewhere purely on horseback."

He chuckled. "Then you're probably glad you took those riding lessons, eh? You'll be used to sitting on a horse's back for long periods of time by now."

Come to think of it, he was right. She didn't have much of a problem with riding anymore besides slightly sore thighs and a small ache in her bottom, all of which went away after a few hours of rest.

 _I'm lucky Cassandra made me take them,_ she thought. "It's also the first time I'm traveling for longer than a day," she added. "The longest I've ever gone for was twelve hours. Oh, and it's my first time camping out," she added yet again.

"There's always a first for everything."

"Quite so," Solas agreed from Varric's left. "Even for those who have been around a long time. One simply never stops learning." He looked up from digging through his pack and gave Ahnnie a smile. With a sudden toss, he threw something in the air, which the girl caught and found to be a small cloth-wrapped bundle of honeyed oat squares. "Give some to the horses. They deserve a little treat after carrying us all this way."

"You made these for them?" she asked.

"They were actually mine, but they went hard. Should be no problem for a horse's teeth, though."

Ahnnie smiled back. He had probably noticed throughout the trip how close she tried to be with her own mount, either by rubbing its neck or talking to it softly – even after all this time, she still seemed fascinated with the chance to work so closely with horses. "I'll get right to it," she assured him. She stood up, stretched, and made her careful way through the dusk.

The horses were stabled in a small lean-to structure next to the shack, open to approach without a door and yet closed in enough to protect from the wind. Ahnnie stepped up first to her gray and heard it nickering as she came close; "Here I am," she announced, as she was entering from behind and it was never a good idea to approach a horse's rear silently. "How're you doing?" As she continued in this conversational manner, she slowly eased up to the horse's side and pat it gently on the flank, moving up to the neck as she came closer to the head. It gave a huff of satisfaction as it crunched on the oat square at the center of her palm.

Varric's pony thrust its snout at her back, causing her to jolt. Ahnnie turned around and gave its snout a friendly rub; the pony dug its nose into her palm in response, looking for treats. When it found none, it snorted and turned away.

"Well," she remarked playfully, and shook out another oat square from the cloth into her hand. "How about now?"

The pony's snout was in her palm a moment later and the treat disappeared faster than it took to produce it. With a sarcastic roll of the eyes, she next went over to Cassandra's bay and Solas' dun. Hot air pulsed down her neck and face as both horses turned to look at her at the same time; she pat them each in turn, delighting in the almost woolly feel of their winter coats. For fun, she put two treats into both palms and watched as they crunched down on the oats in unison.

Seeing nothing left to do, and understanding that the horses would need their rest, she dusted her palms free of oat crumbs and exited the lean-to.

"Hey!" Varric gestured towards her as she came close; from his gleeful expression, he had probably been regaling whoever would listen of the latest humorous story he'd thought up of. "Did I ever tell you about that one time Hawke took my ghost stories a little too seriously? No? Well, you're missing out..."

Ahnnie settled down in anticipation of a good story, huddling by the fire until she was snug, and listened along with Solas to the dwarf's humorous account followed by the aforementioned spine-chilling ghost stories.

When it grew late, she was loathe to put out the fire and retire to what she believed would be a cold, rough bed. But with her traveling clothes, cloak, and the bedroll, she was made warm enough. And so, pillowing her head with her hands, and saying the customary 'Good night' to everyone, she spent her first night on the road.

* * *

They cleared the mountains by the end of the second day, emerging from the pass onto more level and noticeably warmer and greener land. It was still rather cold, making Ahnnie wonder if it was in the middle of autumn or an approaching winter, but the snow had gradually disappeared as they descended until it was no more.

It grew evident as soon as they left the mountains behind them that the path took the quartet around the fringes of a great lake; Lake Calenhad, as Cassandra explained to Ahnnie. It was so named after King Calenhad Theirin, or Calenhad the Great, the man who united the Alamarri tribes into one country...the first king of Ferelden.

Legend had it that King Calenhad spent a day and a year in the Tower of the Magi, a Circle tower built on the waters of the lake, from which he drew a cup of water every day and brought it to the top of the tower to the Formari, magic crafters who created and enchanted items. Using their skills, they meticulously forged each cup of water into a ring of mail armor until it was complete and presented on behalf of the Circle to King Calenhad. It was said that the armor, made from the lifeblood of the land, was such that no blade could strike it and no arrow could pierce through, so long as the king stayed on Fereldan soil.

Adding more to the lake's mystery was the origin of the Tower itself, or what little Cassandra knew of it – the Tevinters, believing the lake blessed by one of their Old Gods, built it in the middle of the water in hopes that it could somehow aid their magic research.

Her interest piqued, Ahnnie would sometimes gaze across the lake when the path took them close enough to its edge, believing that she saw a distant shape jutting out from the lake's surface. She saw in her mind's eye a legion of people dressed like the Romans (for she did not know what Tevinters wore, precisely) standing in admiration of their newly built tower, and a red-bearded Celtic king bending over the waters every morning to fill a chalice before making his careful way to the very top of the tower.

 _Did he fill it to the brim?_ she wondered. _Or did he leave enough room at the top? That would make more sense. And a Thedosian year consists of twelve thirty-day months, so that's three hundred and sixty days...a year and a day, three hundred and sixty one rings...that's not enough. He must've drawn water more than once a day to make that work. How many rings are in a suit of mail armor, anyway?_

And then they made camp. Cassandra picked out a clearing in the midst of some evergreen trees, a nice level spot close to water and shielded in a rough semicircle by bushy shrubs and brush. They tied their mounts to some nearby trees before getting to work clearing up the camp, setting out the bedrolls, and – most importantly – starting the fire.

There was tinder aplenty in the green forest around them. Cassandra had her collect dry grass, weeds, mosses, even feathers if she found them – anything dry and fibrous. While they were on the mountain, they had used pre-dried grasses as their tinder, and while there was still enough of it the Seeker was intent on teaching Ahnnie how to build the fire herself. When she gathered enough, Cassandra had her separate them into a large bundle that would be placed under the cone of firewood and a smaller bundle that would be transferred to the wood as soon as it caught flame.

Ahnnie shaped the small tinder bundle into a bird's nest, just as she'd done back on the mountain. This time, rather than striking flints until the tinder nest smoked, Cassandra made her lay it aside and pulled out a plank of wood called the fireboard and a straight stick of wood roughly eight inches in length and an inch and a half in diameter, known as the drill.

"When choosing wood for the fireboard, be sure it is light, dry, and non-resinous, yet soft enough to be dented. The board should be at least one inch thick, two to three inches wide, and a foot or so long."

Laying the board aside, Cassandra picked up the drill. It didn't look like a drill; at least, not yet. "The drill should be made of wood harder than the fireboard to handle the friction. Now, using a knife, you must carve one end to a tapered point and the other into a blunted point." Ahnnie watched closely as the Seeker used her small hunting knife to carve the ends as she instructed. When she finished, the stick looked like a large pencil, the blunted end being slightly rounded.

"Before you start rubbing the drill to the board, a small hole should be carved in about the size of the blunt end. Make it so that if you insert the drill, it will be difficult to turn; that is the source of the friction."

Cassandra carved the aforementioned hole near an end of the board, about an inch and a half away from the edge and about a quarter inch deep. Once she was done, she cut a V-shaped notch out from the edge, so that once the rubbing process started, the burning coal would catch itself in the notch and could be removed to transfer to the tinder nest.

Ahnnie sighed as she was handed the drill, believing this meant she had to start the arduous process of rubbing it on the prepared fireboard. Once Cassandra laid a flat piece of bark beneath the fireboard, she inserted the blunt end of the drill into the carved hole. Surprisingly enough, Cassandra took up a long, bent stick and began tying some string around its ends. The result would end up looking like a hunting bow, but she looped the cordage in a little noose around the drill before loosely tying it to the stick's other end.

"What is that?" Ahnnie asked, puzzled by the strange contraption.

"A firebow," Cassandra explained. "Rubbing the drill by hand is one way to go about it, but a firebow will make the process much faster and less painful." She gave the girl a wry look and Ahnnie knew then that the Seeker, though gloved, wasn't fond of the hand rubbing method either.

Taking up a stone this time, Cassandra carved the bottom into a socket for the tapered end of the drill and placed it squarely over the stick. She then made Ahnnie crouch in such a posture: one foot placed on the fireboard, holding it in place, and a hand clamped over the rock as if to hold the drill down, but gently enough so that the stick would have room to spin. The other hand held an end of the firebow, and when Cassandra gave the signal, Ahnnie pushed and pulled it quickly ( _like a violin bow,_ she thought) while simultaneously pressing down with the hand on the stone.

It was a rough and jerky process. Several times she pressed too hard on the rock and the drill wouldn't move, or she didn't press down hard enough and the bow would jostle it; however, about a few errors in, she was able to adjust her movements so that the drill twisted as fervently as she wished it to. Cassandra made her pull faster, and her arm began to scream with the exertion. Then, just as she was about to drop, she was rewarded with a rising plume of smoke.

Per Cassandra's instructions, she gently removed the drill and fireboard and blew on the small coal deposited on the bark. Encouraged by the still-smoking ember, she lifted the bark and dropped the coal into the tinder nest she had laid aside. She squeezed the tinder around the coal and blew at the same time, keeping up the smoke, and gave an exclamation of joy when the first tiny flame erupted amidst the tinder – an exclamation that soon turned to one of urgency when the growing flames threatened to lick her fingers.

With a little toss, she watched the bundle fall in with the other tinder beneath the firewood, and continued to blow on it from a safer distance. The flames grew, and grew, and grew, until they cheerfully consumed the cone of wood that housed the tinder. Ahnnie sat back to admire her handiwork blazing away within a circle of stones – a feat that would have been impossible had it not been for Cassandra.

The Seeker deflected each and every bit of praise and thanks. "It is only common knowledge, necessary for journeys like these." Leaning back against a log, Cassandra pulled off her leather gloves and held her hands before the fire. "Remember what I have taught you," she then said. "Make camp before it turns dark and be sure to have enough firewood nearby." She nodded towards a pile of wood stacked to the side, courtesy of Varric. "Else you'll be left to spend a cold night, vulnerable to predators. This is especially important where there are no rest houses on the trail, like the ones back on the mountains."

Ahnnie nodded in comprehension.

"Water should not be a problem if you have a full skin and expect to continue traveling," Cassandra went on, "but it is the best practice to find a source close at hand. It becomes especially necessary if you intend to make camp for longer than two nights."

Just then, Varric jumped into view with Bianca in one hand and two dead rabbits in the other. "Good, you've got the fire going. I shot us some dinner." He held up his catch by the ears, a proud grin on his face, and Cassandra turn to Ahnnie.

"Now, I will show you how to skin and dress a rabbit," she said, and Ahnnie gave an inner groan of disgust.

* * *

Rabbit and herb soup was on the menu that night.

Not only was Ahnnie taught how to prepare the meat, but also how to set up a cooking tripod for the pot. Water was fetched from the lake to boil the rabbits into broth and Solas added freshly washed herbs a little later after having gone to pick them. When it was ready, Ahnnie was surprised at how much she missed having a hot meal, even though it had only been two days. It was her first time eating rabbit, too – she found it similar in texture and taste to chicken, but gamier and leaner. The herbs lent the soup a tangy, sweet taste, and it was worth the scarring experience of gutting an animal in the end.

That night was also the first night she spent out in the open.

It was a totally different experience from sleeping on the hard planks of a rest house. With the fire at the center of the camp, there was little reason to feel any cold, and whenever she looked up, stars twinkled against the night sky like little jewels studded into black fabric. Ahnnie lay still for a while in her bedroll, mesmerized by the sight of so many stars. Surrounded by the leafy smell of the woods, the crackling fire to her right, the boundless sky above, and her companions settled around her, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction that sleeping in a bed couldn't compare with. _I should do this more often,_ she thought. Luckily, there were plenty of chances to do so on this trip.

Ahnnie caught sight of Cassandra walking around from the corner of her eye and lifted herself up by the elbow. "Cassandra? You're not sleeping?"

The Seeker settled down on a log with a shake of her head. "I am keeping watch," she explained. "I will sleep once Varric relieves me."

Ahnnie refrained from asking why. If Cassandra saw fit to keep up a night watch, then there would be a night watch. She worried for a moment that perhaps the area they were traveling in was hostile, but then thought of how a night watch was smart regardless of how politically safe an area was; out in the open like this, dangers both human and animal lurked just beyond the firelight.

"Well, let me know when it's my turn," she said as she lowered herself back into the bedroll.

"That will not be necessary," Cassandra assured her. "Solas, Varric, and I will suffice."

Somehow, that stung. "Are you sure?" Ahnnie asked.

"I am sure."

"Okay..." She turned to her side, resting her head on her folded hands, and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

And so they continued traveling. As the days went on, the routine became fairly simple; wake up, break camp, ride on horseback, take a midday break, continue until near twilight, make camp, sleep, and rinse and repeat. The more they went on, the more their surroundings began to change. The lake narrowed beside them into a river that they would have to cross easterly to reach Mother Giselle; at the same time land became more uneven, walling them in with steep foothills at intervals, so that the river occasionally disappeared from view. When that happened, the others relied on the placement of the sun to gain their bearings, and Ahnnie learned a thing or two about compass and solar direction though she was confused more often than not.

Six days after their departure from Haven, Cassandra finally announced that they were within a day's travel of their destination. They would reach it in a half day at the earliest, by the day's end at the latest. But it was also on this day that gray clouds covered the sky, blocking out the sun in an ominous haze.

"I know the way," Cassandra assured Ahnnie when she asked about it, "and we should arrive before any rain falls. If not, there is a place I know where we can stay."

Varric sniffed. "Let's hope it doesn't start before then. There's nothing more uncomfortable than riding on horseback and being wet and cold at the same time."

Something told Ahnnie that she'd experience the feeling sooner or later, and she sighed as her grey trudged after the others.

The path lay before them in a stretch of rocky, forested ground. They were once again separated from the river, and with the sky overcast, Ahnnie couldn't make heads or tails of their current direction. _Solas said it was a southerly one, though_. Whatever the case, she hoped they reached Mother Giselle or the place Cassandra mentioned soon; the trip had quickly lost its charm after the fourth day or so, and the monotony of travel grew boring. Plus, she didn't relish the thought of being soaked by a downpour.

Time seemed to pass at a syrup-slow speed. The landscape drifted by ever much the same; trees, rock, plants, dirt, everywhere with no difference in sight. No one spoke a word and only the clip-clopping of the horses hooves broke the silence.

"It's kinda quiet, don't you think?" Varric then asked, and Solas frowned.

"Indeed," the elf agreed. "A little _too_ quiet..."

"What–" Ahnnie was about to ask, when she was interrupted by a shrill scream. It came from a distance and echoed over the land, reverberating eerily through the air.

"Up ahead," Cassandra estimated, and urged her horse into a quick trot. The others followed suit.

The scream pierced the air again and again, growing louder as they advanced. At one point it was interspersed with a shrill, high-pitched, unhuman shriek, which Solas quickly identified as that of a horse's. The reason for the screams was revealed when Ahnnie's left hand vibrated with a familiar sensation. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she called out to the others, "M-my hand! I think we're headed for a rift!"

Before they could go any further Cassandra checked her horse and swiftly dismounted to tie it to a nearby tree. Solas and Varric did the same, followed by a tentative Ahnnie. "Why?" the girl asked, too speechless to elaborate.

"The horses will spook if we get too close to the rift," the Seeker explained, understanding her question all the same. "They were not trained to handle combat, but don't worry about them; just follow my lead."

"Okay..."

When Ahnnie saw the others draw their weapons, she steeled her resolve as best as she could and drew out her glaive, holding it defensively before her as taught by Corporal Hargrave. Using the screams as a marker, the quartet maneuvered quickly yet cautiously towards the spot. Between intervals, they relied on Ahnnie's hand, which only seemed to vibrate more as they approached. Eventually they spied the glowing green riftlight through the trees and stumbled upon an urgent and gory scene.

A dark-skinned girl, no older than eighteen or twenty, was frantically fending off the advance of a shade with only a dagger from her prone position on the ground. A terror demon, on the other side of the clearing, was quickly making mincemeat of a fallen palomino horse with its claws. Frothy blood rushed through the horse's nostrils and mouth as it kicked frantically with all fours in a futile attempt to distance itself from the demon; but it was too late, for the abdomen was thoroughly decimated, diminishing any chance of survival even if it pulled through. In the farthest northeast corner lay the carcass of a giant brown creature resembling a buffalo, cut open like an envelope.

" _Storm! Storm!_ " the girl cried when her eyes spied the horse.

It cost only a second to take in the scene, but to Ahnnie it felt like an eternity gazing upon the gore. Her heart was chilled in particular by the horse, still fighting and shrieking despite its horrifying wounds.

She was only vaguely aware of the others rushing in and broke from her reverie just as they joined the fray. With widened eyes, she looked left and right before dashing up to the menacing rift. Meanwhile, Cassandra was coming to the aid of the girl and Solas and Varric took on the terror demon, whose legs were quickly frozen by Solas' magic.

Ahnnie rose her marked hand toward the rift, spewing an eerie green beam that bridged the space between them. She squinted as she focused with all her might, hoping the rift would be closed indefinitely with this attempt, but when she widened her eyes again the ungodly mass spewed forth another terror demon and two wraiths.

Ahnnie jumped back just as the terror demon made to spring on her. She blocked its claw with a swipe of her glaive and forced a stab with the bladed end. Still, she would have been knocked right off her feet had Solas not frozen the demon's arm and leg in time.

"I'll take care of this one," he assured her. "Go–"

"Close the rift, I know," she finished for him, and headed for it again. Chancing a quick look back at the others, she could only see that the girl was safely shielded behind Cassandra before she thrust her marked hand upwards again. A momentary lapse of strength hit her when a wraith fired its magic, but her mark continued to fire the beam, so she ignored the wraith and pressed on.

 _Oh my god, how long is this going to take!?_ she found herself thinking after the wraith had fired one too many balls and the rift still had not closed. A wave of dizziness passed through her head and she felt on the verge of collapse. _Maybe I should have taken care of that wraith first? Ugh, I am so stupid!_ She tried using her free hand to wave her glaive-guisarme at the wraith, but the damn thing was too far away. As a result of overreaching, she stumbled to her right, and the connection to the rift was broken off.

 _No, I was almost done,_ she protested, and moved left again. The connection held and she kept it, though her vision was starting to blacken at the edges.

Almost suddenly, she fell onto her back as the rift finally closed. The momentum sent her skidding a foot or two on the ground, planting her right at Varric's feet. He steadied himself before he could get knocked over and lifted her up by the arm.

"You okay, kiddo?" he asked her amiably, as if they had been in a spirited ball game rather than a fight against demons.

Her breath came out in choppy, ragged gasps and her head felt like it weighed a ton. "Yeah," she drawled out drunkenly, "I'm fine..."

"Storm!"

Ahnnie swiveled her head to the left, still unsteady but slowly regaining consciousness. She caught sight of the girl dashing away from Cassandra's side and up to the fallen horse, crumpling to her knees as she reached its head. "Oh, no, Stormy," the girl gasped, her breath caught in an oncoming sob.

The animal's eyes fluttered open at her touch, and every breath it took pulsed more blood through its nose. As the girl cradled its head in her lap, the horse let out a soft nicker that was gurgled by the blood in its throat. The girl began to cry and hugged the horse's head, stroking its graceful neck gently.

Cassandra approached them and laid a solemn hand on the girl's shoulder. "It is beyond rescue," she said, her voice stoic.

The girl sniffed, gasped, and straightened up from her hug. The horse's breath puffed out more feebly now, though its eyes still tracked the girl as she sat up. "I know," the girl said at last. "Please...don't let her suffer any longer..."

The Seeker nodded and took her sword up again. Varric pulled the girl away and she hid her face in his shoulder as Cassandra thrust her blade downwards in a blunt, cracking _thunk_ through the palomino's skull. The horse's body stiffened slightly before growing slack, and then still.

Varric spoke soothing words to the girl as the Seeker withdrew her sword. She began sobbing inconsolably and the group settled around her, not wishing to leave her alone. When her sobs subsided Cassandra attempted to speak to her, asking who she was and where she had come from. As she slowly ground out her answers, Ahnnie sank down on the grass beside them, unable to take her eyes off the dead horse.

* * *

"Papa!"

The old man looked up from his work in the stables and let out a gasp of shock when he saw the sorry state of his daughter. "Seanna!" he exclaimed.

Seanna rushed up to him and buried herself in his open arms. "By the Maker!" he exclaimed once again when he held her out at arm's length. "What happened to you, child? You look as though you took a fall in the woods!"

Seanna bit down on her lower lip and let forth a fresh burst of sobbing again. "I was taking Storm out to look for Druffy, and while I was leading Druffy back, there was this green magic in the air and then demons – _demons_ –"

She seemed unable to go any further and her father took her up in his arms again. "There, there," he coaxed, cradling the back of her head in one hand and grasping her shoulder in the other. "You're safe now. It will be all right."

"Storm didn't make it," Seanna added in a choked whimper. "And Druffy..."

"It's all right," her father reassured her, though a troubled look was etched across his face.

It was only after a while that the man noticed the strangers standing across from him. With a scrutinizing squint he regarded the forms of Cassandra and Ahnnie. Behind them at a distance were Solas and Varric, riding on a horse and a pony and leading two other horses by ropes.

"Master Dennet! Something wrong?" A young man emerged from deeper within the stables to stand by the old man's side. He first noticed Seanna, weeping softly in her father's arms, and then the strangers. "We have guests?" he then asked.

Master Dennet waved him off with a dismissive hand. "I'll tend to the matter, Bron. You go bring Seanna inside, and when you can, go tell the Bensons about their druffalo. Send them my condolences."

"Yes, sir."

As gently as he could, Master Dennet withdrew from the hug, squeezing his daughter comfortingly on the shoulder before she turned away with Bron and headed out of the stables. The pair walked along a dirt path up to a modestly sized cabin, disappearing from view upon rounding the corner.

"Well," Dennet said once they were gone. He was addressing Cassandra, who looked more authoritative, "I suppose I must thank you for bringing my daughter back safe and sound. I assume you rescued her from the demons."

The Seeker gave him a nod. "And you are Horsemaster Dennet, formerly of Redcliffe?"

"The very same. And you, lady Seeker?" For he had noticed the rather obvious Seeker emblem on the front of her armor.

"Cassandra," Cassandra supplied. With a vague gesture towards Ahnnie and the others, she added, "We are of the Inquisition. And since we have crossed paths, there is an important matter we would like to discuss with you."

A look of recognition passed through Dennet's eyes. "The Inquisition, eh?" He rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. As Solas and Varric finally neared the stables and dismounted, his interest seemed piqued at the sight of the mage elf and rogue dwarf. "Feel free to stable your horses here," Dennet said at last, "and when you're done, head up to that cabin." A browned, calloused finger pointed towards the house Seanna and Bron had left for. "We'll be able to discuss things better there."

Ahnnie waited until the rugged old man left the stables before looking curiously at Cassandra. "You know him?"

"He is well-known in these parts," Cassandra affirmed. She began to walk towards where their mounts stood waiting, and Ahnnie followed. "His mounts are said to be the finest in Ferelden. He used to be the horsemaster of Redcliffe, but retired after the Fifth Blight. Where he retired was not exactly known, but Leliana had a hunch he was somewhere in the northwest corner of the Hinterlands. If we can convince him, we can obtain better horses for the Inquisition."

"Was Leliana right?"

Cassandra smiled wryly at the girl. "Indeed. We are in the northwest of the Hinterlands."

"Oh," Ahnnie nodded.

With a chuckle, Solas couldn't help but add, "A little more practice and you'll get your bearings straight."

Ahnnie noticed the mischievous glints in the corners of Solas' and Varric's eyes, and she gave them a mock pout. "Stop making fun of me," she whined playfully, before helping the others stable the horses.

* * *

Once they were done, they entered the cabin as promised. It was a nice, spacious abode with a stately red carpet spread over the stone floor and what looked like hay or rushes strewn about here and there. Elaina, Dennet's wife, ushered them to a round wooden table where Dennet was waiting.

Elaina bade them to have a seat and disappeared round the corner to fetch some tea. Once seated, Cassandra pulled off her gloves and Varric made himself comfortable by leaning back in his chair. Ahnnie did her best to maintain her posture, though she was starting to grow a little sleepy. _A side effect of the wraith magic,_ she presumed. Beside her, Solas was taking everything in with observant eyes. When Elaina returned, everyone gratefully nursed their own steaming mugs of hot tea.

"I can't thank you all enough for saving our daughter," Elaina said as she slid into the chair next to her husband's. "Had you not been in the area, we would have lost her."

"We only did what was right," Cassandra deflected. "Besides, there was a rift in the area. We had no choice but to take care of it."

Elaina's face became grim. "Those rifts...they've been opening up all over the Hinterlands and aggravating the wolves...as if bandits weren't enough of a danger already." She shook her whitened head. "I've told Seanna over and over again that she can't go off on one of her escapades, not in times like these. But she has a strong sense of justice, that girl. When the Bensons lost their prized druffalo, she got it in her head that it was her duty to bring it back." She took a careful sip at her tea and then added from the corner of her mouth, "Just like her father, that one."

Dennet gave his wife an amused look, but only held it briefly before turning back to their guests. "So, you're the Inquisition," he began. "Hear you're trying to bring order back. It's high time someone did." His eyes wandered over to Ahnnie. "Never thought it would be a child, though."

"Not much older than Seanna," Elaina remarked with a pitying glance.

It took Ahnnie a while to realize they were talking about her. She fidgeted in her seat as a prickle of discomfort made her face warm. _They identified me so easily._ _Rumor sure spreads fast..._

"This matter you want to discuss – you're looking for mounts, are you not?" Dennet turned his gaze to Cassandra, much to Ahnnie's relief.

"We are," the Seeker affirmed. "It is no secret that you served Arl Eamon well in your time at Redcliffe, and that you are an expert on the animals. Your horses will greatly aid us, as we are currently relying on Haven's livery stables and the mounts between our forces are stretched thin."

"Simple messenger horses aren't going to serve your purpose," Dennet nodded. "I can see why you need me, but I can't help you at the moment." He took a deep sigh, and explained, "I hope you understand. I can't just send a hundred of the finest horses in Ferelden down the road like you'd send a letter. Every bandit between here and Haven would be on them like flies on crap."

Elaina frowned at his crude language. "Dennet," she chided.

But Cassandra held up a hand. "It's fine. I would prefer that he spoke plainly."

"In short, you'll have mounts once I know they won't end up a cold winter's breakfast," Dennet finished, and he took a big gulp of tea to commemorate it.

"Of course," the Seeker nodded. "That is only reasonable."

There followed a short pause in which it seemed Cassandra was mulling over the old man's words. Ahnnie looked from Elaina to Dennet to Cassandra, wondering what this rejection would mean for the Inquisition. Last she checked, it wasn't an organization with deluxe caravan services to guarantee safe passage to a group of four people, much less a hundred horses. With their current resources, it looked to be a logistics nightmare.

 _But he cares about his horses,_ she thought, _and that's a good thing._

"We cannot stay any longer if we want to reach our destination in time," Cassandra said at last. "The Herald of Andraste has much to do." Ahnnie immediately shot a look of discomfort at Cassandra, but was ignored. "We will, however, send someone from our camp once we arrive to work out the details with you. In the meantime, we will do our best to secure the area and surrounding roads. I hope that we can arrive at a suitable arrangement within a month's time."

"Same," Dennet agreed.

Matters seemed to end there and they finished up their tea, but when Dennet opened the door for them the sky was revealed to have let loose the rain it threatened not over an hour ago. With a plaintive sigh Dennet remarked, "A pity. The roads'll be muck tomorrow." Turning to the group, he offered, "You can stay to wait out the rain, but it'll be near dark by the time it finishes. On the other hand, Elaina and I wouldn't object to feeding and housing you for a night. Take your pick."

"I'll take the feeding and housing, thanks," Varric decided with a grin, and they moved back into the house to get settled.


	10. Chapter 9

The group awoke at the crack of dawn. Ahnnie felt creaky after a night's rest on the stone floor of the cabin's main room, yet she had no choice but to force her eyes open and make her bumbling way behind Solas and Varric to the stables. Elaina was gracious enough to offer a basin of water for their refreshment and some cloth-wrapped bread for their breakfast on the road, but Ahnnie still felt sleepy nonetheless and took a bite of her bread when no one else was looking.

Dennet was right; the ground had turned to muck. The moment anyone took a step forward onto the path, their boots squelched as they pressed down into the soft, viscous mud. It never sucked on their feet, but it definitely made a mess with every rising step, splattering droplets of mud on anything within a three foot radius. By the time they reached the stables, their boots and parts of their trousers were flecked with sludge.

 _Eugh,_ Ahnnie groaned, and put a hand up to her nose. _The rain's made the stable smell even worse._

And now that she thought of it, the consistency and color of the mud made it difficult to discern between horse droppings. She closed her eyes and prayed her boots hadn't made an errant step into a camouflaged pile of the stuff.

To the quartet's surprise, it was not their original mounts that were saddled and ready for them; rather, three stocky horses and an equally stocky pony were hitched to the posts by the stable entrance. All the animals were well-built and handsome, and there was a marked difference between them and the horses they originally rode on. Even to a novice like Ahnnie, they had the air of good breeding about them.

Dennet pat the flank of the nearest horse with a proud smile. To the other side of him stood Seanna, her expression indiscernible in the early morning light. "You deserve better than whatever knock-kneed plow nags they gave you," the horsemaster said. "These three here are purebred Fereldan Forders, and the pony's a Fereldan Highlander. You won't find anything better in the Hinterlands, not even if you searched it twice over."

He parted from the steed to let Cassandra inspect it. What she found was obviously satisfactory, for she gave him a nod and untied the reins from the post. "It is very kind of you," she thanked him.

"Ah, 'twas nothing. Couldn't let you ride on into these parts without dependable mounts." His eyes hardened as he shook his head. "The Mage-Templar conflict's still going strong, not to mention the bandits and wolves. You'll need all the help you can get. I'll take care of your other mounts in the meantime. Whenever your people get here, I'll give them back. You have my word for it."

Solas quickly claimed the second Forder, and Varric was getting himself acquainted with the pony. Ahnnie looked up at the remaining Forder, a tall proud chestnut, but felt a pang of guilt as she looked into the stables. She thought she could just make out the smoky grey rump of her previous mount a few stalls down.

"Would you like to say goodbye to him?" a girlish voice asked, and Ahnnie turned around to face Seanna.

She looked back at the group and saw Cassandra still conversing with Dennet. "Yes, please," she answered Seanna, smiling.

The girls made their way into the pungent stables and headed for the grey's stall. Its rump was turned to them and its head was bowed, preoccupied with a crop of hay. To catch the horse's attention, Seanna made soft clicking noises with her tongue. The horse turned around in response and held its head out over the stall door, mouth chewing amiably on a bundle of hay.

Ahnnie reached out a hand to touch the velvety nose. Puffs of warm air pulsed into her palm in steady intervals. With a sigh, she gently caressed the length of the grey's cheek, feeling more than a little somber. Even though it had only been a week, she felt bonded with the animal already. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy," she murmured. _You're not a knock-kneed plow nag to me,_ she added in her mind.

"It's hard not to get attached," Seanna remarked.

"I know, right?" Ahnnie agreed, and looked over to Seanna. The girl was gazing at the horse with a nostalgic smile, and Ahnnie could tell that the pain was still fresh in her memory. "I'm sorry about what happened to Storm...I wish we'd come a little sooner. Maybe things would have turned out differently, then."

Seanna's eyes connected with hers and she gave Ahnnie a sad smile. "That's not your fault. I wish things were different too, but like Papa always says, we shouldn't dwell too much on what we could not change."

"I suppose that's true," Ahnnie nodded.

They stood in silence for a while, staring in unison at the grey horse. The animal continued to chew hay whilst staring back at them, as if it understood what they were thinking. "Thank you for saving me, by the way," Seanna added a moment later.

"Oh..." Ahnnie shook her head. "I didn't do anything. Cassandra was the one–"

"Yes, but without you the rift would not have closed, wouldn't it?"

Ahnnie blinked. "I guess not," she said at last. As if on cue, she took a peek at her left hand, dimly glowing green in the gloom of the stables. _I'm still not used to it, aren't I? Sometimes I look and expect to see nothing there, just like it used to be before all this..._

"Ahnnie!" Solas' voice called from outside, breaking her thoughts. "Are you ready? It is time to leave."

She looked up in alarm before giving Seanna an apologetic smile. "I guess I have to go now. Bye," she said to the grey, patting its muzzle one last time. "And goodbye to you too," she said to Seanna. "Take care of yourself. I hope you feel better soon." She reached out a hand, hesitated awkwardly, then pushed it forward to clasp the other girl's wrist in a friendly squeeze.

"I will, thank you," Seanna nodded. "Farewell."

* * *

They reached the camp at noon. Ahnnie was at first surprised to see that it was a military camp, bustling with activity from what little people were there to manage it. _Is Mother Giselle here?_ she wondered, scanning the collection of tents and armored people for a nun in Chantry robes, but found none.

"The Herald of Andraste!"

Ahnnie had just dismounted and still had her hands on the saddle when she looked around to see who had addressed her.

"Down here."

She obeyed and found herself looking down upon the pretty face of a copper haired female dwarf, dressed in thick clothing covered by light pieces of armor. Ahnnie's cheeks warmed as she stammered an apology.

"It's no problem. I'm aware of my own height." She said this so matter-of-factly that Ahnnie's guilt alleviated somewhat. "I've heard the stories," the dwarf went on. "Everyone has...we know what you did at the Breach. It's odd for someone so young to have such power, but you'll get no back talk here; that's a promise."

"Oh, um...thank you..." The compliments only served to make her cheeks redder. To change the subject, she introduced herself: "I'm Ahnnie, and you?"

"Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service." The dwarf's voice rang out clear and proud. It was evident that she took her position seriously.

From behind Ahnnie, Varric's smoky voice addressed Scout Harding with a question. "Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?" There was a hint of mischievousness, maybe even flirtatiousness, in his tone.

Harding turned to him. "I can't say I have...why?"

"You've been Harding in..." He trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

Scout Harding tilted her head in confusion, unable to get at his meaning.

"Oh, never mind," Varric sighed in defeat. It was then Ahnnie pieced two-and-two together and pursed her lips to keep from laughing.

Cassandra was not amused; she rolled her eyes and made a noise of disgust before turning away to head into camp. Solas merely chuckled and led the horses away, Varric following suit.

Finding herself alone with the scout, Ahnnie decided to act the part delegated to her. "So," she began in as official a tone as she could, "what's the situation out here?"

Harding was all business again. "We came to secure horses from Redcliffe's old horsemaster, but with the Mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn't get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he's even still alive."

"We met with him, actually," Ahnnie recalled. "Just yesterday. He's fine. Um..." She looked towards the camp to find Cassandra, but the Seeker was busy talking to some soldiers. "Lady Cassandra said she'd send someone out to negotiate with him once we got here...I think that's what she's doing right now."

"That's good news," Harding said in relief.

"What about Mother Giselle?" Ahnnie asked next. "Is she here?"

Harding shook her head. "Mother Giselle's at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war's spread there, too."

"Oh...Where's the Crossroads, if I may ask?"

"No problem; it's a little ways over there." She pointed in a westerly direction. "Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won't be able to hold out very long. You'd best get going; no time to lose." Scout Harding gave her a short military nod before going her own way.

 _Aw, I thought we could have a break. I'm kind of hungry..._ Ahnnie looked around the camp again and sighed. _Oh well. Better go tell the others. They'll want to know.  
_

* * *

"Whoa, watch your step!"

Ahnnie fell against Varric's outstretched arm, steadied herself, and turned around to give him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

They were negotiating the path down the steep slope below camp. The camp itself was perched strategically atop a hill, crowned by leafy trees for cover, and there was a clearer path to it that rounded the hill, but this smaller one was faster and otherwise passable except for a small cinch that made it difficult to traverse by horse. Besides which, they needed the advantage of stealth, so they went on foot, Cassandra leading the way followed by Solas, Ahnnie, and finally Varric at the rear.

Once they reached the main path, they set on their way. It wasn't much different from the slope; rutted from wagon tracks and rocky and broken in parts, and not to mention, muddy; but it was wider and less slippery. It took them between two giant boulders, graced on both sides at the entrance with braziers that were currently unlit.

"Mother Giselle cannot be far," Cassandra remarked as she surveyed their surroundings.

And then as they turned the bend, they were greeted by three arrow-studded corpses bleeding at the foot of a crumbling stone wall.

Ahnnie gulped. "That can't be good..."

Solas pat her shoulder reassuringly. "Keep your weapon handy," he advised her, "and stay close to us."

She did as she was told and stalked carefully after the others, Solas in particular.

Several more corpses lay sprawled along the sides of the path, making Ahnnie gag, for they were starting to decompose. She sucked in a breath and stopped breathing through her nose, but the essence of the smell came through anyway. _At least_ _I'm not hungry anymore,_ she remarked, trying to think positively.

They met with a lone archer in the arm of the second bend in the path. He stood a few feet away from the exit of the boulder pass, holding his position defensively. As they passed, he gave them all a curt nod and a brief, "Careful out there. It's nothing but madness."

Ahnnie frowned. _Is it really that bad?_

Cassandra continued to lead them forward, undaunted by this warning. They could hear distant sounds of fighting but saw nothing out of place, up until they came upon three armored men frozen in a great stalagmite of ice, each man entrapped in his own icy mound.

"The work of mages, no doubt," Solas remarked.

And then the sight of fighting was directly ahead of them. With a simple turn to the right, they could each see the conflict playing out for themselves not more than a hundred feet away, people hacking at each other with swords and fire crackling haphazardly about the ground alongside jutting crystalline structures of ice. It was difficult to discern who was fighting who, but it soon became clear that the people in big spiky armor were pitched against the lighter armored ones.

"Inquisition forces," Cassandra said after a quick evaluation. "They're trying to protect the refugees."

"Looks like they could use a hand," Varric added, itching to put Bianca to use. Solas brought out his staff and started chanting a spell.

Ahnnie held her glaive-guisarme point forward and made to follow them, but Cassandra pushed her back. "It is far too dangerous for you. Stay here behind these crates and wait for us to return."

Ahnnie looked at the two crates Cassandra indicated. Their size was such that one was sufficient to hide her if she crouched, making them an effective wall of cover. "But–"

"Do as I say." Her tone was not to be trifled with and made Ahnnie shrink a little. Without waiting to see if the girl would obey her, the Seeker turned away and strode headlong into the fighting. "Hold; we are not apostates," Ahnnie could hear her state, but when no one paid her any heed, the ring of metal as she drew out her sword preceded the staccato raps of her blade against another blade.

At a loss for what to do, Ahnnie stared helplessly at the fighting before sinking down behind a crate. _I think those men are Templars,_ she thought of the combatants opposite the Inquisition forces. _Cassandra's right; it's too dangerous for me. I've never fought against a person before. Just dummies and demons...I'd get killed if I take a step out there._ Still, these reassurances did little to assuage the sting of Cassandra's rebuttal. It made her feel incompetent all over again, like a little child who couldn't do anything right.

Her face twisted in disgust as she thought of how it also sounded like special treatment.

 _Oh, shut up,_ she sighed. _You said so yourself that you'd get killed the moment you stepped out. There's nothing 'special' about having your lack of skills accurately evaluated._

And so she contented herself with this fact – albeit alongside a smidgen of guilt – and lowered her weapon so that it wouldn't stick visibly above the crates. She shifted her bottom into a comfy position to lie in wait for the end of the battle. But after a while, curiosity got the better of her and she chanced a tiny peek upwards.

All was still chaos and confusion. Men still fought, fires still raged, ice crystals still froze (and in fact, new ones pierced the landscape, probably thanks to Solas). Ahnnie narrowed her eyes in an attempt to make out the forms of her companions, but did not succeed. _Maybe they're too far in,_ she thought. _I hope they're okay..._ The thought of losing one of them never occurred to her until now. _They'd better come back in one_ _piece,_ she thought, suddenly alarmed. _What am I supposed to do without them?_

As if on cue, a Templar fell to his death and Varric was suddenly made visible in the midst of the fray. He was too far for her to see his face, but Ahnnie could tell it was him from the shape of his figure. He was firing away with Bianca, moving agilely between men and debris.

 _And not a single scratch,_ Ahnnie marveled. _He's really good._

Just then, an archer in dark uniform blocked her vision. The girl gave a start and ducked her head, for he was within several feet of her. Her heart hammered in her chest at the possibility of having been spotted, but when nothing happened, she took another peek and saw that his back was to her. She could then confirm he was not of the Inquisition; their archers wore brown with green hooded mantles. This one wore no hood and donned a dark grey leather tunic fastened by a red belt.

If she was still confused about his allegiance, he was now shooting at Inquisition soldiers with as much skill and accuracy as could be afforded in such a chaotic situation. It made her blood boil to see one go down, pierced by one of the archer's arrows. But she reminded herself, yet again, that she could do nothing.

The archer drew out another arrow from his quiver and took aim at a new target. Ahnnie was about to sink her head down again, thinking she could do herself no good by watching a battle she could not help out with, when the archer changed direction and aimed his arrow at Varric.

Her heart leapt into her mouth. _No!_ If that arrow found its mark, at best Varric would be injured. But at worse...Her hands gripped the shaft of her glaive until her knuckles grew white. _I have to do something, and fast. Can I do it? But – no, I must!_

Losing no time, she rose from her hiding place and flipped the glaive-guisarme over to its bladed end. The archer was still tracking Varric's movements, but she did not doubt that he would soon fire. Without so much as a breath to steady herself, she closed her eyes and thrust the dagger-like end forward. Leather gave way beneath the blade, quickly followed by soft flesh and some bone.

"Aaaarrrgaaah!" came the garbled scream, and the archer dropped his bow. Ahnnie yanked her weapon from his back and jumped over the crate to make another attack, this time with her glaive's main blade. In a fierce downward swipe, she sliced a diagonal line from his shoulder to his hip, causing him to double over in pain.

But he did not fall; he froze for a moment before making a slow, staggering turn to face his attacker, a shaky hand grasping a hilt at his side. Ahnnie tightened the grip on her weapon as she watched him draw out a sword. She felt as though in a dream, facing a murderous apparition of her own conjuring. But this was no dream. This was real; and he was dead set on killing her.

With a roar, the man lunged for her, his blade poised to strike. She blocked with a swipe of her glaive but then he pulled a feint, cutting close to her leg. Sweat beaded on her forehead as he pressed on with an alarming speed despite his injuries. There was neither the time nor opening for her to go on the offensive; the archer, skilled as he was, kept forcing her back and putting her on the defensive.

Ahnnie soon found herself backed against a burning fence post. With no other choice, she attempted to push back by using the bladed end again, aiming for his stomach. It only grazed his tunic before the man thrust his blade too close to her fingers, triggering her to yank back her hands in defense. As a result of her surprise, the glaive fell to the ground. Before she could make a grab for it, the archer closed in and grabbed her by the collar with his free hand.

She croaked out choking gasps as he constricted the collar around her throat and pushed her downwards, forcing her onto her knees. Her fingers scratched fruitlessly against his gloved hand, while the other one held the blade right at her eyes.

The archer gave a low chuckle. "Stupid little bitch," he cursed, and spat in her face. She closed her eyes, grimacing at the spittle on her skin in addition to the increasing lack of air. "I'll carve up your face so not even the Maker can recognize you."

Well, this was it. This was the end. One thrust between the eyes, and she'd never wake again. She was still fighting, though, clinging desperately onto life with each attempt at breathing and furious punch after punch against the hand that choked her. It would have been easier to give up but every instinct within her screamed to resist the end. She realized she now knew what Storm was feeling in those last moments of terror, that natural urge to keep preserving oneself in the face of all odds.

And then something bubbled within her. Something deep and tingling and urgent. For all she knew, it was probably a side effect of the choking, but it flared in her belly like a white-hot fire. When she opened her eyes, the world was blurred through the spittle and spinning crazily before her. Her killer was leaning in to say something smug, but she couldn't hear it through the blood rushing in her ears. All she knew was that she didn't want him so close to her face, to see that ugly, gloating smirk of his, and stretched out her left hand to push it away from her.

A wild green light flared crazily from her hand the moment it connected with his nose. The archer screamed as the light sizzled and singed his skin. As though it had a life of its own, her hand clamped down on his face, clawing onto his oily skin; two of her fingers practically dug into the corners of his eyes. His howls were muffled by her palm and he removed his hand from her neck to pry hers off. When that didn't work, his other hand joined in to help out. In his urgency he must have dropped his sword, but Ahnnie didn't register this as she drank in deep gulps of air.

Her senses slowly returned to her, but it wasn't until much later that she noticed the writhing man beneath her left hand. He had fallen onto his back by this time but still screamed like the devil had him by the feet. Her frown of confusion contorted into horror when she realized how the flesh was slowly sloughing off his skull, and how her index finger was so deep into his eye socket that she could feel the space between the bone and the eyeball.

Now it was her turn to scream. She turned her face away and yanked the flaring hand with all her might, but it was as though a magnetic connection held it in place; she simply could not let go.

" _Solas!_ " she wailed, thinking of the only person who could help her. "Solas! Oh God, help me! The mark won't stop! It won't stop – _it won't stop_! Solas, make it stop!"

She was loudly advertising her status as the Herald of Andraste by now, but in her terror, she didn't care. Every attempt to remove her hand simply jerked the archer's face along with it, causing her cries to become more urgent. If a Templar came up and cut her down now, she wouldn't have even noticed.

In fact, she didn't even notice the apostate elf shaking her by the shoulders, shouting in an attempt to cut through her voice: "I am here, I am here!"

With a gasp, Ahnnie clung her right hand onto his forearm. "Solas! Solas!" That was all she could say; she had not the mental capacity to speak anything else.

"Shh," he coaxed, and drew her into a warm embrace. "Hush, _da'len_..." What he said next was in a language completely foreign to her, and a gentle hand snaked down to enclose over her flaring left hand. After a few more chants, she felt the heat flee from her left hand, creeping back through her arm and into her stomach like a withdrawing snake until it was no more.

"It is done," Solas informed her. "You can move your hand now."

She only did so after a few moments, for she was shaking terribly. True to his word, her hand was hers to control again. But it hurt to move her fingers, so she lay the hand by her side. And then, remembering the archer, she turned her head from Solas' shoulder to look at him. "That man...is he...?"

The archer was sprawled on the ground with his arms to either side of him and his face; god, his face...it was burnt to an unrecognizable heap of black crisps and the eyes, two semi-melted balls of jelly, stared lifelessly at the sky.

"He is dead," Solas assured her. "He can do you no more harm."

A vulnerable squeak made its way through her mouth as she realized what that meant. "I killed him," she rasped. "Oh my god, I just killed somebody..."

"No, Ahnnie–"

"I fucking _murdered_ somebody!" she cried, and then convulsed into a series of violent sobs.

Solas opened his mouth to say something, but closed it soon afterwards. He realized he could only nod and whisper words of understanding as he enclosed her in another hug. The disconsolate girl wept into his tunic and held onto him as though he were her only lifeline left in this turbulent sea of madness.

* * *

The fighting was finally over – the Templars and their forces retreated, and the fires were put out to keep them from spreading. The refugees emerged from hiding a little while later, staring meekly at the destruction left in the battle's wake. But their spirits were emboldened upon seeing a symbol etched onto a parchment-colored flag flapping in the breeze; the symbol of the Inquisition, staring proudly over the village of the Crossroads, a mark of the victory that was won that day.

Ahnnie watched the sword-pierced sunburst eye as it yielded to the breeze's movement, undulating and contorting in such a way that it almost seemed as if it was blinking back at her. She could just make out the runic words etched below, but made no special effort to decipher them. Her attention went instead to the two Inquisition solders saluting her with their fists over their hearts.

Ahnnie returned the gesture after watching the others perform it.

"We are seeking Mother Giselle," Cassandra announced to them after they put down their hands.

"She is right over there," the female soldier said, pointing to a set of stairs behind the group. "You'll find her tending to the wounded."

"Thank you," Cassandra nodded, and ushered Ahnnie by the elbow in that direction. It seemed as though she was taking special pains to be gentle with the girl, especially after she and Varric stumbled upon Solas cradling her while she wept like a baby. The fighting had more or less subsided by then but Cassandra still allowed her a few moments to vent her emotions. For that, Ahnnie was thankful, though she still felt so broken on the inside.

It was easy to spy Mother Giselle from amongst the healers after reaching the top of the steps. Her red Chantry-robed form made her stand out like a cardinal among sparrows. Ahnnie hesitated, intimidated by the wounded lying so numerously about them, but Cassandra gave her a gentle push that animated her feet into walking again. She stopped behind the Chantry Mother, standing at a close yet polite distance.

"There are mages here who can heal your wounds," the Mother was saying gently to the soldier before her. "Lie still." Her voice was soft and had something of an accent to it. Ahnnie identified it as French, but she knew here in this world that its equivalent was Orlesian.

"Don't," the soldier ground out, "don't let them touch me, Mother...their magic...!"

"Turned to noble purpose," Mother Giselle assured him. "Their magic is surely no more evil than your blade."

"But–"

"Hush, dear boy. Allow them to ease your suffering."

The soldier was a full grown man and yet she called him 'dear boy', as though he were only five. He could easily have resisted her, choosing to disobey instead. But it worked like a charm; with naught but a sigh, he settled back down onto his bedroll, mollified into allowing the mage behind her approach him.

Mother Giselle straightened up to her feet and pulled back accordingly. She made to move to another patient, but Ahnnie remembered her purpose here and called out, "Mother Giselle?"

The Chantry Mother paused, then turned to look at her. She had the kindest eyes Ahnnie had ever seen and a rosy mouth set into a face of mocha-colored skin, lightly wrinkled. "I am," she affirmed. "And you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste."

"Yes," she replied, "but I wish they weren't...calling me that..." Shaking her head, she returned to the point, "I heard that you asked for me?"

Mother Giselle regarded her thoughtfully before pulling her aside into a walk some distance away from the open air hospital. "Is something the matter, dear child?" she asked, sensing Ahnnie's disquiet.

Ahnnie gave the Mother a faint smile. The thought of telling her the truth felt like giving forth a church confession, which she had never done before. "I'm fine," she instead assured, "perhaps just a bit...tired."

Mother Giselle nodded. Her eyes turned elsewhere as they continued walking, slanting in pity whenever she gazed upon the charred ground below. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement, and I'm familiar with those behind it," she said after a while, turning back to look at Ahnnie. "I won't lie to you. Some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us..."

Mother Giselle stopped at a spot where they could overlook the village easily, as well the grand falls beyond it. Ahnnie listened to the distant roars of the falling waters and found them soothing. "What happened was horrible," she agreed, more aware now than ever before of the fragility of life.

"Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason."

Ahnnie looked over at the Mother and found herself gazing into a pair of knowing brown eyes. "Go to them in Val Royeaux," the Mother continued. "Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you; give them something else to believe."

"But...how can I convince them?" Ahnnie asked. "I can't even fight to protect myself, much less change deep-rooted opinions." Her thoughts immediately turned to Chancellor Roderick; if the other clerics were the same...

"If I thought you incapable, I wouldn't suggest it," Mother Giselle rebutted gently.

"Would they even listen to me?"

"Let me put it this way: you needn't convince them all. You just need some of them to...doubt." Once she knew she held the girl's interest, she went on, "Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them, and you receive the time you need."

 _That makes sense,_ Ahnnie thought, nodding. _Putting it that way m_ _akes it sound less daunting. Still...it's a big task..._ "Thank you, Mother Giselle, for your advice," she said instead. She had no wish to burden the Mother with more doubting questions. "It's very kind of you."

She was rewarded by a beaming smile from Mother Giselle. "I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us, but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us...or destroy us."

Ahnnie should have been used to these 'chosen one' comments by now, but the brevity of Mother Giselle's last sentence weighed upon her with a strange sort of force. _Me? Build the Inquisition?_ Nonsense. She was just one person, and not even the leader of the Inquisition at that. _I think Cassandra is?_ she thought, recalling how readily the Seeker took to being an authority figure. _Or maybe it's Leliana?_ She would have to ask once she got back to the group. _But me,_ _I'm just the person who can close rifts. Nothing more._

"I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana with the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering," the Mother continued. "It is not much, but I will do whatever I can."

"Maybe if the schedule's right, you can leave with our group," Ahnnie suggested. "We wouldn't mind. Besides, it's rough out there...bandits, and all."

The Chantry Mother's face crinkled into another gentle smile. To Ahnnie's surprise, she reached out a hand to tuck a strand of black hair behind an ear, dark fingers brushing tenderly against the pale yellow skin. "Thank you, dear child. I will keep that in mind." And then she moved away, going back to the wounded patients like a mother bird to her lost little children.


	11. Chapter 10

Progress marked their second week away from Haven. After settling themselves at the camp above the Crossroads, the quartet set to work doing what they could to aid the relief effort; hunting and foraging the surrounding countryside for extra food and healing herbs, joining in patrol rounds to watch for troubling activity, and constantly consulting with Scout Harding for the latest news in the Hinterlands.

The charity work was therapeutic to Ahnnie in particular. She visited the wounded soldiers and assisted the healers whenever she had the time. With every visit she felt as though she could atone for killing the enemy archer, even though he treated her like trash and would not have hesitated to kill her. There wasn't a moment when his mangled, charred face was absent from her mind...even when she was occupied with other things, he was still at the back of her thoughts, haunting her with his pitiful howls.

Other times she played with the children and helped their parents or guardians look after them while they were busy. When she was not doing either of these, she was out with the others doing either of the three aforementioned activities, though added to that list was the hunting of Fade rifts. Wherever there was rumored to be a rift, Cassandra would rally them all in a reconnaissance mission to confirm its existence before rushing in to put it out. Sometimes they came upon these rifts by chance, having barely any warning besides Ahnnie's vibrating hand before they were blade-to-claw with demons. These sorties occasionally took them far from their main camp and the result were smaller satellite camps that slowly accumulated in the area.

The rewards were few, but very promising: Inquisition forces, under the direction of Corporal Vale, managed to clear the East Roads of bandits and flush out some rogue Templars to the west. The people Cassandra sent to Dennet made headway with the horsemaster and were involved with setting up watchtowers in the area that would help the local farmers spy trouble before it could strike, and thanks to the gradual disappearance of the rifts, wolf activity was beginning to subside.

But one day, Cassandra called them all together for a mission that was slightly different from their regular activities. As they were busy saddling their mounts, she gave them a brief rundown of the upcoming task that piqued Ahnnie's interest greatly:

"Leliana sent word that one of her agents reported a man in Grey Warden regalia traveling the Hinterlands. I have just had it confirmed with a farmer named Giles that he goes by the name of Blackwall, and is conscripting farmers in an operation against bandits to the southwest of us. Apparently, he also helped the villagers repel demons when the Breach opened."

Ahnnie was unnerved to learn that demons had been present beyond the Frostbacks at the onset of the Breach, but a more pressing question was on her mind. "Why is this important?"

"Many Grey Wardens went missing after the Divine's death," Cassandra explained. "This one should be found, and questioned."

* * *

"How have you been faring, _da'len_?"

Ahnnie turned her head to find that Solas had allowed his Forder to fall behind Cassandra and Varric, stepping into pace with her. "I'm fine," she answered with a smile. "What does that word mean, though? _Dah-len_?"

"It is Elvish for 'little one', or 'little child'," he explained.

"Ah," Ahnnie nodded in comprehension. _So it's like how Vietnamese uses 'con' for kids_. "What should I call you, then?" Did the Elvish have pronouns for age and relation gradients, such as the Vietnamese _anh_ for males of brother-age, _chú_ for males of uncle-age, and _bác_ for those of grandparent-age, and so on? And if it did, would it be mandatory to call him by that, or was just 'you' fine? These questions reminded her of why she delighted in learning about cultures in the first place.

"You would call me 'hahren', which means elder," Solas supplied.

"I see...so is there just 'hahren' for elder, or are there different pronouns for different relations? And would you be expected to use them frequently?"

"A good question," Solas agreed. " _Hahren_ is, indeed, the only word for elder. Elvish does have words for relations such as 'father' and 'mother', and you would be more or less expected to use them. I should point out, however, that _hahren_ is more commonly used to address elders in general beyond relatives, such as within a Dalish clan or the leader of a city alienage."

Ahnnie frowned. "If that's the case...I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure you know more about this than I do, but...you don't look _that_ old." She scrutinized his features carefully. "I would say you don't look a day over thirty-five. Forty at most, and that's pushing it." _Had you been Vietnamese, I would call you 'ch_ _ú'._

She waited a while for his response, but he only gave her a cryptic smile in return.

Ahnnie couldn't help but grin as she shook her head. "Okay, fine, don't tell me your age...I'll just call you _hahren_ for the sake of wisdom. But, you know, being old is nothing to be ashamed of. If you ever want to confess..."

"My, you are persistent," Solas chuckled. She laughed as well and he waited for her to stop before asking, "Tell me, though; ever since what happened at the Crossroads with that man...have you noticed anything different in your mana?"

Ahnnie's smile immediately vanished. Her hands clenched a little harder at the reins, the left one in particular. "Not really," she mumbled, her eyes turning from the elf to focus on the trees.

"Are you sure?"

She bit down on her lower lip. "I'm sure," she said a moment later.

Solas sighed. "I understand how traumatizing it must have been. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable, but it seems as though you have the capability to use your mark for purposes other than closing rifts. I can help you to understand it, perhaps even control it–"

"No," she blurted out. "I don't want to. If it's not to close a rift, I never, _ever,_ want to use magic, _again._ "

Solas blinked. "I see," he nodded. "Very well, then. I shan't force the matter on you."

Ahnnie closed her eyes in a brief grimace before finally summoning the courage to look at Solas again. Was it just her, or did he seem a little hurt? "I'm sorry," she apologized in a softer tone. "I didn't mean to...I'm just scared..."

"It's all right, _da'len_ ," he assured her with an encouraging smile. "I understand."

* * *

"Are you sure we're going in the right direction, Seeker? This place seems more than a little deserted."

"I know what I'm doing, Varric," Cassandra said, and continued pressing down the road.

"Hey, just saying," Varric protested. "We passed by this place to get to the Crossroads, and there was nothing there."

"Well, it's possible that it's just rumor," Ahnnie put in, "but why would a farmer lie to a Seeker? They're called the Seekers of Truth, right?"

The dwarf turned to look at the human girl and bellowed out a hearty laugh. "Listen to her, she's getting better at jokes already!"

Ahnnie blushed. "I'm only repeating what I heard."

"Hey, don't sweat it," Varric assured her when his laughter subsided. "The Seekers _are_ famous for getting at the truth, more specifically as a check on Templar power. So you're right, mostly, but a farmer..." He lapsed into another fit of chuckling.

"I would not laugh if I were you, Varric Tethras," Cassandra retorted. "You never know what I may find out about you, if I were so inclined."

It took them a while to realize that Cassandra was being sarcastic; her tone was so serious, it sounded at first like a real threat. Then it was Ahnnie's turn to laugh as Varric held up his hands in defeat, his face expressing mock surrender.

"Fun fact: didya know the first Seekers were members of the original Inquisition?" Varric said a while later.

"Oh! No, I didn't," Ahnnie confessed. "That's interesting." She turned to Cassandra to see if the Seeker herself would divulge in any facts, but when she didn't, she turned back to Varric. "So it has something to do with the forming of the Circle and the Templar Order, right? Since you said the Seekers put a check on Templar power."

"You got it," Varric nodded. "But the Inquisition was even before that. The Seekers and Templars both came from them. In fact, the Inquisition was even before the _Chantry_. They formed some time after the First Blight to fight against what they called the 'tyranny of magic'. And then the Chantry convinced them with the Nevarran Accord to join under a banner of faith, which created the Circle of Magi, Templar Order, and the Seekers as you know them today."

"Wow. That's amazing," she remarked.

"I don't think the mages would agree," Varric joked, "but that's the history of the Inquisition for you."

It certainly gave some flesh and bones to the organization that, to Ahnnie, seemed a fledgling operation born on the whim of a dead Divine. Only vaguely was she aware of any 'original' Inquisition. Now that she knew some of the backstory, its purpose made more sense. It also felt motivating to know she was part of something that had existed long ago, that had a history predating the current institutions of present-day Thedas.

Then she frowned. "He's telling the truth, right?" she asked Cassandra warily.

Even Solas burst into laughter at this question. Cassandra's face was not visible, but there was a hint of a smirk as she replied, "For once, he is."

They took a veer to the west that brought them upon the shores of a small lake a quarter of an hour later. An island was visible on the waters in front of them, and the bubbling gurgle of a waterfall sounded somewhere beyond the island. When they arrived, Cassandra pulled them all to a stop so she could better survey the lay of the land.

"This would make a good place to camp," Solas commented as he studied the smooth, even ground before the lake. He had an eye for campsites, and founded a good handful of the satellite camps they had established.

"I will keep that in mind," Cassandra nodded. "For now..." She trailed off, her eyes squinting at something in the distance. "Do those look like docks to you?"

The Seeker was pointing at a series of jutting brown structures that appeared to break the surface of the lake, on the banks to the far right. They were very small, at least from this distance, so nothing for certain could be said of them. Whatever they were, it grew evident that they could not be reached by walking along the right bank; to that side the land ended in a steep slope, so steep it seemed as though the lake was situated atop a cliff. The only viable path was around the left, hugging close to a greater rock wall that ran around the perimeter of the lake.

The route having been decided, they urged their mounts in that direction. The path became so narrow that they had to go single file, and at one point they had to ford a little neck in the lake directly below the falls, but once they reached the other side they could comfortably traverse with some room to spare between them. As they approached their destination, the brown structures Cassandra spotted could clearly be identified as docks, and not too far ahead was the rectangular shape of a manmade structure.

"Hold," Cassandra urged, and dismounted. Following her lead, the others tied their mounts to nearby trees and proceeded on foot. Ahnnie soon knew why; the Seeker did not wish to alarm the small group of people gathered by the docks. She did not unsheathe her weapon, though, so perhaps the situation wasn't a hostile one.

"...make this a fight, not us," the robust voice of a man clad in dark armor carried over to them. He was addressing three well-built youths, dressed in the simple brown cloth that Ahnnie recognized as farmer's attire. Armed with wooden shields and simple axes, the youths gazed intently upon the armored man as he spoke, devouring in attentive silence every word as if their lives depended on it.

"Remember how to carry your shields!" the man continued. "You're not hiding, you're holding. Otherwise, it's useless!"

Ahnnie looked up at Cassandra, who returned her glance with a nod. "That looks like our man," she said. Gesturing for the girl to come forward with her, she strode confidently up to the group. "Warden Blackwall?" she called out, not even waiting for the men to register their arrival.

The armored man whirled around. He had an aquiline face framed by a dark, rugged beard, and his eyes burned fiercely. "You're not – how do you know my name?" he demanded. He stormed over to them and Ahnnie felt herself leaning back instinctively as he came close. "Who sent – ah!"

He was interrupted by the flight of an arrow, and in reflex raised his shield to block it. Ahnnie gave a start, for had he not been so fast, she would have had her brains speared through. Beside her, Cassandra unsheathed her sword as two armed men rushed into the clearing.

"Bandits," Blackwall spat. He glared at Ahnnie and Cassandra. "That's it; help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first!" He lowered his shield and waved the farmers forward with an impatient gesture. "Conscripts! Here they come!"

The youths rallied around him, albeit with some hesitance, and charged to meet the bandit threat.

Ahnnie immediately withdrew the glaive from her back, though she felt reluctant to enter combat against other people so soon. She had not done so since they first reclaimed the Crossroads. With luck, she wouldn't have to do much. There wasn't many of them; only three, the archer and the two bravados.

Then three more rushed into the clearing, proving her wrong.

 _Well, there's four of us, and four of those guys,_ she thought, counting the Warden and his youths. _Those bandits are outnumbered six to eight._

Solas bought them an advantage with magic. It was clear the bandits had not expected it, screaming frightfully at the first sign of ice enclosing around their limbs. That made most of them fairly easy targets for Cassandra, the Warden, and Varric; the three farmer youths followed suit when they saw how the odds were turned in their favor. Ahnnie lingered directly behind them, the combat so close to her face and yet not within her reach. She found herself preferring it that way, up until one of the youths opened up his flank and a bandit made ready to cleave his weapon into it.

With a quick jab, Ahnnie buried the bladed end of her glaive into the bandit's side. He yelped and fell back, alerting his former target, who whirled around and ended his life with a sharp chop to the neck.

The youth gave her a grateful smile before going off to help one of his comrades; Ahnnie felt a little more encouraged than before and went after him, deciding she could provide some assistance without directly killing anyone.

"Watch your head!"

Ahnnie ducked as the same youth she helped out held a shield over her, stopping an arrow in its flight. "Thanks!" she chirped, and straightened up to discern the path of the arrow's trajectory. _Behind that tree,_ she thought. _If we don't get rid of that archer soon, he's going to be problematic._ She looked around, and then spotted Solas. Waving to catch his attention, she pointed to the tree and pantomimed the act of loosing an arrow.

The elf nodded and launched a magical attack in that direction. Satisfied, Ahnnie turned back to the matter at hand and helped the youth corner a lone bandit, backing him against another stand of trees close to the lake. With the threat of a glaive to his right and an axe to his left, the exhausted bandit threw down his arms and dashed past the gap between his two attackers. Unfortunately, he ran right into Blackwall and received a sword to the belly for his rudeness. Without so much as a blink, the bearded Warden shoved the dead bandit off his blade, watching as the corpse rolled into the high grass.

Of the six bandits that attacked them, only two survived and ran off into the wilderness. Thus ended their fight, just as quickly as it had begun. Ahnnie felt breathless with the exhalation of victory. The farmer youth beside her seemed just as ecstatic, and Ahnnie could only guess that his joy was all the greater for having been able to take on a bandit where previously he could not have even speared someone with a pitchfork. She knew the feeling. It was empowering.

"Good job," she nodded to him.

"You as well," he nodded back, and brushed the sweat from his flustered cheeks.

A _thunk_ in the ground brought her attention back to the Warden. Blackwall had pinned his sword into the earth as he strode towards his last kill. He knelt beside the corpse awhile, his great back turned to them. "Sorry bastards," he muttered a little later, and spat into the grass before making his way back. He stopped before his blade, where it was stuck ominously into the dirt.

"Good work, conscripts," he congratulated the youths. "Even if this shouldn't have happened, they could've...well, thieves are made, not born." He pointed a gloved hand to the north. "Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves."

The youths looked amongst themselves before setting off in that direction; the one alongside Ahnnie gave her a charming smile before he left, which she returned rather shyly. Only once they were gone did the group feel free to approach Blackwall. He watched them with wary eyes, noting their faces in turn. "You're no farmers," he said at last. "Why do you know my name? Who are you?"

"We know your name because we are agents of the Inquisition," Cassandra supplied. "We are here investigating whether the disappearance of the Wardens has anything to do with the death of the Divine."

Ahnnie widened her eyes at Cassandra in shock. She hadn't expected the Seeker to be so direct.

"Maker's balls," the Warden cursed. "The Wardens and the Divine? That can't – no, you're asking, so you don't really know." He shook his head. "First off, I didn't know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell you: no Wardens killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."

"I was not accusing the Wardens," Cassandra corrected him. "Yet. I simply need more information. We have only found you; where are the rest?"

Blackwall shrugged. "I haven't seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no Blight coming."

Ahnnie frowned. "But then..." She pointed confusedly in the direction the farmer youths had gone.

"Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need, who we need," he explained to her. "These idiots forced this fight, so I 'conscripted' their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me."

"I see," Ahnnie nodded. "So, you have the power to conscript even when it's not a Blight?"

"It's complicated; if there's a Blight, everyone has to help the effort to fight it. The treaties are ancient. Outside of Blights, it's only as binding as a clever tongue can make it."

"Interesting," Ahnnie remarked.

Blackwall looked at her and chuckled. "I suppose it is. Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are – that's what helps."

"Do you have any clues as to where the other Wardens could have gone?" Cassandra then asked, taking back the reins on the questioning.

But he couldn't answer this question any better than the other one. "Maybe they returned to our stronghold at Weisshaupt? I don't really know. Can't imagine why they'd all disappear at once, let alone where they'd disappear _to_."

"Why have you not gone missing like the rest of them?"

"Well, maybe I was going to, or maybe there's a new directive but a runner got lost or something. My job was to recruit on my own. Planned to stay that way for months. Years."

So many 'maybes', but no definite answer. Even Cassandra was at the end of her rope, and ended the interrogation when she could see no forthcoming developments. "It has been a pleasure, Warden Blackwall, but this was of no help. I bid you a good day. Come," she said to Ahnnie, and the girl followed as the Seeker turned away, but she couldn't help staring back at the Warden behind them.

 _So, that's it?_ she wondered. _We're done here? He's done?_ Somehow, it didn't feel right.

His eyes met hers, and he frowned. "Inquisition...agents, did you say? Hold a moment." When they paused, Blackwall rushed up to them, his face urgent. "The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved."

"Go on," Cassandra prompted.

"If you're looking to put things right, maybe you need a Warden," Blackwall continued. "Maybe you need me."

The Seeker looked up him and down. "What can one Grey Warden do for the Inquisition?" she asked him skeptically.

"Save the fucking world, if pressed." He paused to let that sink in, then sighed. "Look, maybe fighting demons from the sky isn't something I'm practiced at, but show me someone who is. And like I said, there are treaties. Maybe this isn't a Blight, but it's bloody well a disaster. Some will honor them. Being a Warden means something to a lot of people."

Cassandra nodded and looked down at Ahnnie. "What do you think, Herald of Andraste?"

Ahnnie blinked. "M-me?" Her face reddened when Blackwall regarded her with a newfound curiosity. "Uh...why're you asking me?" _And now, of all times?_ "You know more about this than I do..."

Varric clapped her on the back. "You're the one who can stop the Breach, if that makes it any clearer. Y'know, you ought to take charge once in a while. You're not just here for decoration."

"She?" Blackwall pointed at her, and Ahnnie gave a facepalm.

"Yeah, I know, I know," the girl laughed, and showed him her left hand. "Let's not go into detail, please." That having been established, she looked up at Cassandra for guidance. She was not about to make a decision that went against the Seeker's pleasure.

"I do not object," Cassandra told her. "A Warden ally would be advantageous."

"Okay then," Ahnnie nodded. "Since my approval was so necessary"–she aimed a glance at Cassandra and Varric–"you're in. Welcome to the Inquisition, Blackwall."

It was as if a wall of ice had been broken between them. Though his face betrayed no joy, the tone of his voice was warm and pleased. "Good to hear," the Warden mused. "We both need to know what's going on, and perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long." He reached a hand for his blade and lifted it clean out of the dirt. Brushing it slightly, he slapped it back into its scabbard. "This Warden walks with the Inquisition," he declared.

"Hope you don't mind doing some actual walking, then," Varric said, and jerked a thumb down at the path. "We've got horses over there, but you seem a little too heavy to share one – no offense – and it's a long way back to camp."

"None taken," Blackwall assured him. "I've got a mount round back. I'll be just a few."

They went ahead and mounted their steeds while he fetched his. When he returned, Blackwall was sitting astride a tall, broad-shouldered charger almost as dark as the armor he wore. His essentials were all tucked in the saddlebags, so there had been no time wasted on any picking or packing. When they returned to the Crossroads camp that afternoon, they all came back one ally richer.

* * *

 **A/N:** And so ends Book I. Stay tuned for Book II: Whispers of the Just (which will still be posted in the same fic). Ciao!


	12. Book II: Whispers of the Just

A cold mountain breeze whipped up the snow, stimulating flurries that danced about the horses' hooves. The beasts nickered softly in the watery afternoon light, and their tails swished good-naturedly as they ambled along the sloping trail. They were five in number and their riders rode them close together; the winds were blowing something fierce and they didn't wish to get lost in a blizzard, should one happen.

Luckily for them, their journey's end was right around the corner. After turning the bend they came to a frozen lake, lying placidly across from the frontier village of Haven. Another left turn some hundred yards down and the gates of Haven would be ready to receive them.

"Finally, we're home," Ahnnie breathed as the gate posts loomed into view. A puff of vapor escaped from her mouth with her breathy exhalation, clouding the air before her briefly.

"Interesting that you should call it home," Solas remarked. A snug winter cap covered his hairless head – such was the cold that not even he could withstand leaving it bare. "You've only stayed for two months."

"Well, what else can I call it? It's the first place I ever knew here."

"What's it that they say?" Blackwall pondered, his dark beard flecked with snow. "' _Home is where the heart is_ '."

"Change that to 'ale', and I'll be a happy man," Varric joked.

Ahnnie laughed. "Oh, come on, Varric – surely it's more than that. A place might have ale, but what if it's the most rundown shack in the world? With rats, and mold? Would you still stay?"

"I could say the same of a place full of 'heart'."

"Well...fine, can't argue with that." She took a deep sniff and rubbed some warmth into her frigid nose. "How about you, Solas, Cassandra? What defines home for you?"

"Oh, those two?" Varric shook his head. "Don't bother with them. Their hearts are made of ice."

"We can hear you, Varric," Cassandra reminded him.

The conversation ceased when the village gate was finally within reach. The guards swung it open as soon as they recognized the Seeker, elf, dwarf, and human girl – Blackwall was news to them, but then again, they'd been having some new faces pop up in Haven recently. New recruits for the Inquisition gathered from the Hinterlands, a Chantry nun by the name of Mother Giselle, and Horsemaster Dennet, to name a few.

The group were free to dismount as soon as they were within the village walls. Soldiers stood at the ready to take care of their horses and they gratefully took the chance to stretch their legs.

"Lady Seeker, Lady Herald," a soldier saluted Cassandra and Ahnnie smartly. "You're just in time."

"Yes?" Ahnnie asked, wondering what the occasion was. Come to think of it, she could hear the sound of a raucous crowd gathered in the upper tier.

The soldier faltered beneath Cassandra's glare. "There's a...conflict, in front of the Chantry, between some of our men and the...mages. Also, Chancellor Roderick has returned."

"Maker's breath," Cassandra cursed, and stormed up the path. Ahnnie trotted after the Seeker, a knot of anxious anticipation already forming in her stomach.

When they reached the Chantry entrance, they found the majority of Haven's population split into two sides: mage vs. templar, with a good number of the anti-mage civilians backed behind the templars.

"Your kind killed the Most Holy!" a templar barked, his voice hoarse against the howling wind. Voices of assent sounded from behind him, templar and civilian alike.

"Lies," a balding mage protested, and jabbed an accusatory finger at the templar. "Your kind let her _die_!"

The incensed templar grabbed the hilt of his sword. "Shut your mouth, mage!" He was halfway in withdrawing the weapon when Commander Cullen burst from the Chantry doors.

" _Enough!_ " Cullen shouted, pushing aside the two dissidents with rough shoves.

The templar stumbled back, and his face turned ashen when he saw who it was. "Knight-Commander," he gasped.

"That is _not_ my title," Cullen growled, his voice seething with rage. "We are _not_ Templars any longer. We are _all_ part of the Inquisition." He placed a special emphasis on 'all', glowering pointedly at both sides.

"And what does that mean, exactly?" a familiar pompous voice asked. The mousy face of Chancellor Roderick soon became visible as the crowd parted to let him through.

Ahnnie and Cassandra turned in his direction. "Back already, Chancellor?" Cassandra asked, her voice devoid of all warmth. "Haven't you done enough?"

Wrinkling his nose, the Chancellor shot back, "I'm curious, Seeker, as to how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised." He cast a disgusted glance at the angry crowd around him, seeing wherever he turned the very chaos the Inquisition promised would not happen.

"Of course you are," Cullen muttered under his breath, and then clapped loudly for everyone's attention. "Right. Back to your duties! All of you!"

At the authoritative bite in the Commander's voice, the people dispersed and were cleared from the Chantry doorstep within a few minutes. Ahnnie watched them go, noting their disgruntled faces with a sinking heart. _We can't afford any infighting. Not at this time..._

The Commander shook his head as he addressed the girl. "Mages and templars were already at war; now they're blaming each other for the Divine's death."

Ahnnie sighed. "Everyone's always looking for someone to blame."

"Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order," put in Chancellor Roderick contemptuously.

"Who, you?" Cullen asked. "Random clerics who weren't important enough to be at the Conclave?"

Ahnnie stiffened. "Commander Cullen," she protested; she was aware she didn't have the force to chide him, but she knew matters could only get worse if they devolved into all-out name calling.

And yet, it had started anyway. "The rebel Inquisition and its so-called 'Herald of Andraste'?" the Chancellor countered. "I think not."

"You put too much stock in your own failed ways without considering that the Inquisition is a new effort," Cassandra pointed out. "One small conflict, and you are ready to shoot it down as dysfunctional."

 _Oh Cassandra, not you too!_ With an aggravated _tsk_ , Ahnnie turned to face Roderick and make her own appeal. "Chancellor, we mean no disrespect. But you must give us a chance. The Inquisition's...the Inquisition's like a young family that just started. Sure, there may be some initial conflict, but as soon as things fall into place then everything goes more smoothly."

But the Chancellor looked at her as though she'd just said the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "How many families are on the verge of splitting into open warfare with themselves?" he asked her incredulously.

Ahnnie clamped her mouth shut and swallowed. _I can tell you of one,_ she wanted to say, but questioned the wisdom of it.

"Yes, because that would _never_ happen to the Chantry," Cullen drawled sarcastically, saving her the effort.

"Centuries of tradition will guide us," the Chancellor declared. "We are not the upstart, eager to turn over every apple cart."

"And _we_ are not old fools, too stubborn to see the problem before us," Cassandra retorted.

The Chancellor drew in a sharp breath, and it was clear he was readying a sharp rejoinder to this latest insult. As he was doing so, Cullen looked over to Ahnnie with an exasperated light in his eyes. "I will keep the peace while you and the others appeal to the Chantry in Val Royeaux," he promised her. "Though I should warn you that the Chancellor's a good indicator of what to expect there."

Ahnnie sighed again. She had already resigned herself to that fact, and tried not to think about it much. "Thanks," she said, smiling up at the Commander nonetheless. She had to appreciate his sincerity.

Meanwhile, the Chancellor chose to unload his frustration on her instead. "Better ready yourself for the blame that you will be rightly assigned," he spat, and then turned away to seek refuge from the wind and snow in the Chantry.

"Maker's breath," Cassandra muttered once he was gone. "Always has to have the last word, doesn't he?"

Ahnnie shrugged. "Perhaps he just thinks he's doing the right thing. You can't blame him for..." Catching movement from the corner of her eye, she looked up and noticed Blackwall standing off to the side, having witnessed most of what transpired. "Oh." She rubbed her arm awkwardly. "Um, sorry you had to see that. That's not what we're usually like. Honest."

Blackwall shrugged. "No organization's without its fair share of detractors. Happens all the time."

Remembering their newest member, Cassandra gestured him forward. "Come; let us get you settled within the Chantry. Sister Leliana would also like to speak with you."

Blackwall nodded stoically and followed the Seeker towards the sunburst emblazoned doors. Ahnnie fidgeted where she stood, itching to say something – she didn't want the Warden's first impression of the Inquisition to be a dour one. Before he could disappear behind the Chantry doors, she cupped her hands around her mouth. "Hey, when you're done, come join us over at the Singing Maiden!" she called after him, hoping her voice carried through the wind.

Before he disappeared into the Chantry halls, the Warden looked back over his shoulder and gave her a hearty nod.

* * *

"Your Ladyship!" Nala gushed, and rushed forward to embrace her.

" _Oof!_ " Ahnnie exclaimed, but returned the hug in earnest. "Hi, Nala. It's good to see you too," she smiled.

"Oh, Lady Ahnnie, your things are just as you left them," Nala jabbered on after she pulled away. "Your room has been cleaned, the sheets changed, hearth swept, oh, and rations restocked; everything has been in perfect order."

"Thank you, that's good to hear." But the state of her living quarters mattered little to her right now. "So, uh, Nala...why're you here at the tavern by yourself? Not that that's a problem, but you usually never come by."

The elven girl blushed. "Please don't misunderstand, Lady Ahnnie...it's...ah, perhaps you should come see it for yourself."

Ahnnie cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Please, come this way..." Her nervous hands gestured for Ahnnie to follow and they went up to the side door of the tavern. After they exited, Nala shut the door behind them and headed for the stables, steering towards a familiar stall that Ahnnie knew all too well.

Netta was inside, and when she heard the older girls approach, she turned around to face them. "You're back!" she beamed when she saw Ahnnie, and ran up to hug her legs.

"Hey, Netta," Ahnnie greeted back, patting the little girl on the shoulder. She knelt down to be level with the child's face. "Wow, you've gotten taller," she remarked with a hand atop the child's head.

Netta grinned. "Mama says I've grown an inch," she boasted. "Did you say hello to Lady yet? Come say hello to Lady!"

Ahnnie laughed. "I will, I will..." But when Netta moved away to reveal the dog they all knew and loved, Ahnnie's eyes widened. Her hand reached forward tentatively, and Lady was quick to assault it with licks, but she did not seem to register this as she stared at the dog's swollen belly. At last her fingers connected with the stomach, and she let out a gasp of wonder when she felt a flutter of movement.

"Lady's having puppies!" Netta giggled.

Ahnnie was barely aware of the stupid grin that had spread on her face. She looked up at Nala, who beamed back at her with just as much joy. "When did you notice this?" she asked the elf.

"I think she told Flissa three weeks ago," Nala speculated.

"And a bitch starts showing after the end of the first month," Ahnnie mumbled, remembering what she knew of canine pregnancies. "Oh my god. Lady could whelp at any moment!"

"Ah, so you know about that too, your ladyship?"

"Yes, my dog gave birth once before."

"How many puppies will she have?" Netta squealed excitedly.

Nala placed a restraining hand on the little girl's shoulder to keep her from jumping. "Like I've told you many times, Netta, it looks about three or four."

"How many puppies did your dog have?" Netta turned to Ahnnie.

Ahnnie smiled. "Nine," she answered with a measure of pride.

"Wow, that's a lot!"

"And _far_ too many for us to handle," Flissa interjected behind them. Ahnnie looked up to see the innkeeper's face looming above them at the stall door, shadowed by the gloom. Only the cold grey light reflected off the snow and a dim, fluttering lantern provided any illumination. "Welcome back, Herald of Andraste. I hope Netta hasn't been too much of a nuisance again."

"No, she's never a nuisance," Ahnnie objected, and stood up to properly greet the woman. "How's it been, Flissa? Business going good for you?"

Flissa smiled. "It's been fair enough." Then her eyes wandered down to Lady, and Ahnnie had the distinct feeling she was not as pleased about the pregnancy as her adopted daughter was.

Ahnnie exited the stall and gestured Flissa away. They stood a few stalls down from the other girls, speaking lowly so they would not hear. "It was quite a surprise, wasn't it?" Ahnnie asked her.

Flissa sighed. "You could say that again...I was not even aware that the dog was in heat...must've copulated with some stray around town. She gets to wander freely during the day, after all."

 _So that explains it._ Ahnnie tracked the dates in her mind, and estimated the time of mating to be some weeks before the trip to the Hinterlands. It wasn't a wonder no one noticed anything – Flissa would have been too busy with the management of her tavern, Ahnnie herself too preoccupied with her lessons, Netta too young to understand the significance, and the straw bedding too uneven to catch any spots of blood. Even if a strange smell was detected, they would have just chalked it up to unsanitary conditions.

"With new recruits and refugees coming in, I just don't know how we're going to scrounge enough food to feed a whole litter of pups," Flissa continued.

Ahnnie's gut twisted as she heard that familiar argument, used so many times before against her. But Flissa was not at fault; unlike some people, Flissa actually had a legitimate concern. "I'll think of something," she promised the innkeeper emptily, not quite certain of just what she would do. "And besides, Nala says it looks like a small litter. Given Lady's size, that makes sense. My dog is much bigger, on the other hand."

That seemed to take some of the edge off her worries. With a careful nod and a 'by your leave', Flissa walked back into the tavern. Ahnnie watched her weary feet trudge through the snow, then looked back towards Lady's stall, listening to Netta's delighted giggles and squeals. _Whatever happens,_ she promised herself, _I'm not going to let any of those pups die. I'm not going to let Netta's smiles turn into sobs. No one's going to feel burdened by their existence...not if I can do something about it.  
_

"Oh, Ahnnie?"

She whirled her head back in the direction of the tavern. The silhouette of Flissa's upper body was peeking through the side door. "A soldier came by looking for you. You're needed at the Chantry."

 _And back to work I go._ "Tell him I'm coming," she replied, and went back to Lady's stall to let the girls know.

* * *

One of the first people Ahnnie saw upon entering the Chantry was Mother Giselle. She couldn't help but smile as the kindly Chantry Mother inquired after her well-being and allowed herself to lapse into a short conversation. Mother Giselle had left the Hinterlands for Haven before Ahnnie and the others could, so this was the first time since their last talk that they had met. Their talk was mostly pleasantries, although there were several allusions to the trip to Val Royeaux.

"Maker be with you, child," Mother Giselle blessed her when she had to go.

"You too, Mother Giselle," Ahnnie returned, and paced down the hall towards the door of the council room.

But when she entered, she realized it wasn't so much a council room anymore as it was a war room. The map that draped the long table in the middle was dotted with pawn-like figurines, and the rest of the room was devoid of extraneous furniture, chairs especially, which was a key indicator that the map was meant to be considered whilst standing, not sitting.

The only other person besides Ahnnie herself was Leliana. The spymaster had been observing a pawn in her hand before she noticed the girl's entrance. "Ah, you're here," she remarked, her voice as melodious as ever.

Ahnnie approached the table and looked around the room. "Did you need me for something?"

"Yes, but we're still waiting for Josephine, Cassandra, and Cullen."

 _So this is serious._ She wondered what it was about. In the meantime, she decided to ask the spymaster about Blackwall. "Did you find out anything about him? Was there something that we might have missed?"

Leliana shook her head. "It seems he truly knows nothing about the disappearance of the Grey Wardens. It's a disappointment. I am, however, glad that he is with us, even if he was...not what I expected." She turned her gaze upon the map as she put the pawn back down, but continued, "He seems to be a good man and his experience will be an asset to the Inquisition. As for the other Wardens, I suppose we will have to keep looking."

"I wonder what happened," Ahnnie thought aloud. She didn't know much about the Wardens, just what Solas told her back when she was clueless about Thedas. They fought darkspawn whenever they appeared, and had gained renown for defeating every Blight, but beyond that she had no way of understanding the significance of their mass disappearance. She only knew it seemed very funky for so many of them, supposedly unassuming and solitary people, to go missing at once.

Her thoughts were directed from the Grey Wardens when the door opened and Josephine entered. "Greetings, Lady Ahnnie," the Antivan woman smiled, her perfect teeth sparkling in the candlelight.

Following shortly afterwards were Cullen and Cassandra. Now that the gathering was complete, they could get down to business. Today's agenda: the pending trip to Val Royeaux.

"Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea," Josephine began.

"You can't be serious," Cullen protested. "I know it's probably been arranged, but that still doesn't make it a good idea."

"Mother Giselle isn't wrong; at the moment, the Chantry's only strength is that they are united in opinion."

"And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?" Leliana challenged.

Josephine looked over at Ahnnie. "Let's ask her."

Ahnnie had not expected to be involved so soon in the talk, but was quick to voice her honest opinion. "It's mostly going to be talk. Other than harsh words, I don't think there's much to worry about."

"Do not underestimate the power of their words," Leliana warned. "An angry mob will do you in just as quickly as a blade."

Ahnnie scratched the back of her head. "Well...I guess, but...I've got to go. It's necessary, isn't it? I can't just decide not to at the last minute."

Cassandra stepped closer to Ahnnie. "I will go with you," she said to the girl. And to Leliana, "Mother Giselle said she could provide us names? Use them."

The spymaster frowned and shook her head. "But why? This is nothing but a–"

"What choice do we have, Leliana?" Cassandra interrupted. "Right now we can't approach anyone for help with the Breach." She next addressed the advisors in general, instructing them, "Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through."

 _Cassandra is_ definitely _the leader of the Inquisition,_ Ahnnie thought as she listened to the Seeker. Leliana didn't argue back, and even Cullen seemed mollified. Josephine, who had been partial to the trip in the first place, began scribbling some notes on her writing board in acknowledgement of Cassandra's statement. "Ah, yes, I will also be going with you," she added to Ahnnie, pointing at the girl with the feathered tip of her quill.

"Really?" Ahnnie asked. "Why?"

"Val Royeaux is not just the religious capital of the Chantry," Josephine explained. "It is the capital city of Orlais – the center of the Grand Game. You do remember what I told you of speaking to nobility in our diplomacy lesson?" When she nodded, Josephine continued, "The Game is much like that, but more complex. With what little practice you have, you will not be able to navigate its machinations very smoothly."

"It's just the Chantry clerics," Ahnnie reminded her, feeling uneasy at the mention of the Game.

"Yes, but your presence in Val Royeaux might pique the interest of those outside the Chantry. Lady Cassandra is a stalwart protector, of that I have no doubt." Josephine nodded pleasantly at the Seeker. "But when it comes to the nuances of diplomacy, I am better suited for giving you advice. It is also a good chance to spread our influence and possibly garner some favors amongst the city's powerful."

The girl felt more at ease with this explanation and could see the wisdom in having someone like Josephine along. Once that was finished, Leliana took her aside to show her the route she would be taking.

"You'll be heading along this road, skirting Lake Calenhad and then northeasterly through Gherlen's Pass to the port city of Jader. That should take you roughly eight to ten days. Then you will go by ship, and depending on the wind and vessel, you might reach Val Royeaux anywhere from two days and a half to one day and a half. We've not yet determined exactly when you will leave, but we will let you know beforehand."

Ahnnie nodded absentmindedly, retracing the routes with her eyes. _I didn't know the Orlesian border was so close to the Frostbacks,_ she remarked, for Jader was an Orlesian city. _That's pretty cool._ At the same time, she had mixed feelings about another trip out of Haven. _I hope I don't have to leave too soon. I'd like to stay and rest awhile._ At least this trip included ship travel, which added some variety. She'd only been on one once, a cruise liner when she was ten, and hoped this ship wouldn't be one of those dirty cramped vessels she read about in history class.

"I'll send some soldiers with you," Cullen then decided. "We'd want to make an impression with our men and it'd put me more at ease about the whole affair."

Josephine nodded. "I shall see to the arrangements."

Then Ahnnie thought of an idea, and asked, "Could I bring other people with me too?"

Cullen mulled it over. "I don't see why not, as long as they're willing. Might spare me some men if they're any good with a sword."

"Sounds great," Ahnnie smiled.

* * *

She twisted the doorknob and opened the door, sniffing deeply at the familiar scents within. Closing the door behind her, Ahnnie kicked off her boots and flopped stomach first onto her bed. The cabin was dark and the fireplace unlit, but she wanted a moment's rest before seeing to all that. With a contented sigh she closed her eyes, feeling comfortable atop the blanket and pillow. They weren't the best, but they were certainly softer than a bedroll on the ground.

 _This is the life,_ she thought.

She had gone to the Singing Maiden right after the meeting, but Blackwall wasn't there, and neither was Varric for that matter, so she did the first thing that came to mind and that was to head back to her cabin. She regretted the decision not at all and flipped over onto her back before swinging to her feet and grabbing hold of the flints and some logs. Within seconds a fire began to grow, and she stretched out her hands to warm them in its heat.

When it burned bright enough, she took her journal and a graphite pencil from the desk and sat before the fire to write, draw, read – whatever she felt like doing in that moment. But one thing was clear, and that was that she felt safe and fulfilled.

For she was at home.


	13. Chapter 11

Ahnnie was of the belief that her schedule would fall back into its previous rhythm, keeping her busy and exhausting her energies by the end of the day. For once, she was given a day's break to rest from the trip, and found that she knew not what to do with it. Where she previously would have welcomed this chance to do nothing, she now itched to be doing _something_. Specifically something that kept her physically afoot. The time spent working in the Hinterlands had became a force of habit.

Word was going round town that the people were commencing on the construction of a stables and forge outside Haven's walls. Now that Dennet was here, there was a bigger need for more stable space, and he wanted to oversee this stable's completion before bringing his precious horses up the mountains. Weapons were also in bigger demand thanks to the new recruits, so a second forge was necessary for keeping up a steady stream of production. That was where Ahnnie decided she wanted to be.

The guards greeted her cheerfully as she went by the open gates. The raw, woody smell of freshly cut timber greeted her nose as she walked down the path. Tinged by the cold, it carried a crisp afterscent in the air that was not unpleasant.

"Heave!" a foreman cried to her left. "Steady!"

The girl approached the site, stopping at a respectful and safe distance away from the workers. She watched as the hefty builders erected the bare bones of a rigid wooden frame, now a jutting skeleton with no definite purpose but soon to be a wide and comfortable structure that many horses would call home. Stones brought down from the quarries would be made into a low wall enclosing the forge, and the stacks of branches off to the side would be destined for the creation of a small paddock.

 _There must be something I can do,_ she thought, seeing that even those of a slighter build had tasks delegated to them, such as fetching tools or aiding in the placement of smaller pieces. With that in mind, she tucked her hair beneath her cap. _No use sticking out as the Herald of Andraste right now..._

"Mornin', Blackwall."

"Morning."

Upon hearing Blackwall's name, Ahnnie whirled around to locate the source of the voices behind her. She soon spotted the Grey Warden on the path beside a gangly man, equipped with a longbow, quiver, and a pack slung over his shoulder. They seemed to know each other and were conversing with familiarity, although Blackwall was more reserved and it grew apparent that they only knew each other because the man was one of many Blackwall had helped out when the Breach struck.

"I lost my home and everything I had in the Hinterlands," the man was saying, "but you saved my life, and I'm here now with a greater sense of purpose. I didn't think you'd be here as well, but you're just what the Inquisition needs. I pray they find more people like you."

"Mm," Blackwall nodded.

When the man left, Ahnnie ran up to Blackwall before he could leave. "Hello," she greeted him.

If her approach surprised him, he did not show it. "Good morning," he returned, his gruff voice nonchalant.

"How are you?"

"Fine," he shrugged. "You?"

"Same." Her eyes wandered to his equipment. "Are you going somewhere?"

The Warden looked briefly at his bow and pack before turning back to her. "Thought I'd do a little hunting. The people could use some more meat in their diets."

Ahnnie nodded. "That's true." She took a sniff of the frigid mountain air before asking, "Crazy question, but...could I go with you?"

Blackwall regarded her for a moment, and then shrugged. "As long as you keep quiet."

"I will," she promised, and they set off for the woods around Haven.

* * *

"Tie up that snare with a knot...little more to the left...all right, leave it there. That's good."

Ahnnie rose to her feet, dusting off her hands. "Another one?" she asked the Warden, but he shook his head.

"That's enough for this area. Wouldn't want to scare off the game with too many." Blackwall stepped over a fallen log and trudged through the undergrowth in what Ahnnie believed was an easterly direction. Then he paused, and stooped low to the ground. "Hmm..." He was observing a small scattering of black nut-like specks in the snow.

"What is it?" Ahnnie asked, tilting her head around his to get a better look.

"Deer droppings," he replied, and spotted some fresh tracks not too far away. "If we follow that now, we might just catch ourselves a good buck."

She thought he was referring to money only for a split second and eagerly trailed behind him as he started after the deer tracks. "You can tell a deer's gender by its tracks?" she asked, wondering how that worked. The tracks alongside them looked like regular hoofprints to her.

"It's not always a foolproof method," he explained, "but you can, more or less. Bucks make deeper tracks and have longer strides. They move in a single direction without many breaks, whereas does often stop to take a bite here and there. They also tend to relieve themselves on the go...if you know what I mean."

"...I see..."

They emerged into a clearing where the tracks had been sprinkled over by snow dropped from overhanging branches. Blackwall stopped to discern the buck's path beyond this interruption, and was off again within the minute. Ahnnie marveled at his ability to zero in on details that seemed at first to be of no significance; a broken branch here meant something, as did a clump of leaves there, or a tiny, almost imperceptible tuft of fur. But then, if he previously lived as solitary as a life as he claimed, it was no surprise that he possessed such skills. He wouldn't have been able to survive otherwise.

Suddenly, Blackwall held up a hand to signal her to stop. Ahnnie paused, almost daring not to breathe.

The Warden held up his bow and slowly withdrew an arrow from the quiver. With another signal to tell Ahnnie to stay put, he stalked amongst the trees, making barely any noise as he maneuvered towards his target.

The girl scanned the trees before her in an attempt to find what Blackwall had spotted, almost missing the greyish-brown torso visible between the trunks in the process. The animal was not only a fair distance away but well-blended with the scene; Ahnnie would not have registered it as a living creature had it not moved its legs. When she looked around for Blackwall, she found he had disappeared somewhere beyond her vision, but did not doubt that he still held the deer in his sights.

 _Twang!_ Just as she was getting used to the silence, an arrow made its whistling flight through the air. Ahnnie heard rustling up ahead as the buck dashed off, either alerted or struck by the arrow. Blackwall was in pursuit a moment later, and Ahnnie decided to follow him since being silent wasn't such a priority anymore.

But when Ahnnie reached him, she saw a disappointed look on his face and no deer.

"Tch," Blackwall cursed. "Lost 'im." The arrow he had loosed was embedded in a tree trunk instead, and Blackwall jerked it out for inspection. "Missed him by a hair," he mumbled, and tossed the arrow when he deemed it unfit for reuse.

"It's okay," Ahnnie assured him. "It happens. Right?"

"More often than you'd think," he affirmed, and they retraced their previous line of travel. "We'll set some more traps to the east, and see if we can't find him again."

It was around noon by the time they decided to take a break, seating themselves on some fallen logs. Blackwall unhooked a waterskin from his belt and took a drink. After he wiped excess water off his beard, he offered the skin to her. "Thirsty?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Ahnnie rejected politely, iffy at the thought of drinking from the same skin. She noticed it wasn't a big deal here in Thedas, but it still was to her even after all this time.

"Stay right here," he then said after he put the skin away. "I'll go check a few traps. Be back shortly."

When he returned, he had two lean squirrels in hand, and told her to set up a fire. Remembering what Cassandra taught her, Ahnnie scrounged up as much fire-material as she could, and had the wood set up in five minutes or so. Blackwall gave her flints to start up a flame while he set to work dressing the squirrels, and a merry blaze crackled before them not too long after. After finding some suitable sticks to set up a spit, the squirrel carcasses were speared and cooking over the flames.

"Maker, look at it. So much easier to ignore when it's far away."

"Hmm?" Ahnnie looked up from tending to the roast. She then saw what Blackwall was talking about. Visible through the crown of trees above was the sickly green glow of the Breach. It pulsed eerily in the distance above the mountain peaks, tall and menacing. If she listened carefully, she thought she could hear the stormy rush of wind that accompanied its swirling movements.

"To actually walk out of it, to be that close..." Blackwall trailed off and redirected his gaze at her.

She gave him brief smile. "I was just lucky. Even I don't know how I managed it. If no one was there to find me..." She wasn't so sure she would have survived.

Blackwall sighed. "The Breach, the Divine's death, the Wardens – it doesn't make sense. There's so much we don't know."

"It must have been very confusing," she sympathized with him. "All these things, happening at once...even if I'm not from here, I can tell how discouraging it is." She was surprised to hear herself confessing that; not too long ago, she was mostly thinking about her own welfare. Shaking her head, she told Blackwall, "Anyway, I'm sure you can help us get to the bottom of this. Your experience with the Wardens will be useful."

"Mostly the treaties, I expect. Old parchments you're welcome to."

"Thank you; I'll remember that," she nodded.

Blackwall then leaned over to inspect the squirrels. "Almost done," he estimated. "Give them a few more minutes. These things aren't that thick, so they'll be ready soon." When he leaned back, he watched her hands as she rolled the spit, and then asked, "So, what about you? How do you fit into all this?"

"Huh?" Ahnnie asked, rather taken aback by the question. "Like...what do you mean?"

"What are your thoughts on the matter?" he rephrased.

"Oh. Well." She shrugged. "It's bad, and it should end soon. I want to help stop it, help restore order, and then go home."

Blackwall nodded. "A worthy goal, I suppose. For me, I'll be satisfied so long as we find the bastards that killed the Divine. They owe us some answers."

"They certainly do," she agreed bitterly, for whoever those 'bastards' were, they had placed her in this situation and made her go through some of the most confusing moments of her life. _I mean, who wakes up one day expecting to land in a completely different world, attacked by demons on the spot and burdened by huge responsibilities right after?_ It just wasn't right.

No more remarks were made about the Breach and its circumstances as the squirrels neared perfection. The savoury smell of the meat was tantalizing, making her mouth water as it tickled the edges of her nostrils. Blackwall immediately brought up two long and thin sticks to act as skewers, then had Ahnnie hold them ready as he carefully slid the squirrels off the spit.

" _Hup_!" Blackwall exclaimed as the first squirrel missed the end of the skewer; Ahnnie had let her thoughts drift and was not holding the skewer correctly. Startled into action, she jolted after the falling carcass, the skewers held in her hand as though to jab the meat midair. She succeeded in catching the squirrel's hind leg between the points of the skewers, hand poised in a way she had not used in a while but would, perhaps, never forget as long as she lived.

"Phew," she sighed in relief. "That was a close one..." Daintily, she gripped the stub of the leg bone between two fingers and transferred the hot squirrel onto a skewer, as it should have been in the first place. With a sheepish smile, she held out the second one for Blackwall to transfer the next carcass onto. "My bad," she apologized.

Blackwall chuckled. "It didn't fall to the ground – that's all that matters." As he slid off the second squirrel, he commented, "Nice handwork, by the way. Never thought of using sticks like that."

"Ah," Ahnnie nodded. "Where I come from, we've got these two sticks we use to eat with. They're called 'chopsticks' in Common." She was careful enough by now to remember the distinction between 'English' and 'Common' here. "Usually they're smaller for regular eating, but they can be as long as this for cooking. Particularly stir-frying. They also have tapered ends, which makes them easier to use."

"What're they called in your language?"

" _Đôi đũa_ ," she answered before handing Blackwall one of the skewers and settling back to enjoy her share.

 _Mm_ , she sighed as her teeth sank into the toasty hot flesh. Though it was roasted as-is with no seasoning, the meat was full of its own flavor, more tender than chicken and sweeter to the taste. Since these squirrels were rather skinny, there was not as much of a richness to them, but their juiciness more than made up for it and they proved to be a sufficient lunch for the pair.

They buried the bones beneath some dirt and leaves and sat before the fire, waiting for it to die out. With warm food in their bellies, the winter air didn't seem nearly as nippy as before. There was a strange sort of satisfaction as Ahnnie watched the flames dwindle, sitting quiet and still like the silent forest around her.

"I don't mean to pry," Blackwall began, breaking the silence, "but on the topic of where you come from, I've been hearing that it's another world."

It took an effort to pry her gaze away from the embers. "Where have you been hearing that, if I may ask?"

The Warden shrugged. "The soldiers, the villagers; pretty much everybody back at Haven."

 _Do the people in the Hinterlands say so as well?_ she wondered, but never phrased that question. Instead, she answered simply, "Yeah."

Everything was quiet once more, until Blackwall cleared this throat. "How different was Thedas for you?"

"Very different," she confessed. "I mean, the moment I woke up, I had this thing on my hand and then I had to fight demons...those things don't exist back where I come from. Neither does magic, for that matter." She wondered how much of this he believed, but went on anyway, "At the same time it was like being blasted into the past. A lot of the stuff here resembles what my world was like hundreds of years ago."

'My world', as if the whole of Earth was a possession of hers; in a way, she supposed, it was. Earth was her secret domain, a mysterious place the inhabitants of Thedas could wonder and marvel at because of the status of its otherworldly visitor. Earth was reflected in her appearance: in the color of her skin, structure of her cheeks, and the shape of her eyes, though she was only representative of a small portion of its many people. Earth was present in her beliefs and values, in her deeply held thoughts and way of speaking.

And Earth was so far away. For how long would that be? _Several more months? Years, even?_

She was glad for the chance to put that question behind her when the fire died out and Blackwall kicked the ashes away.

The snares yielded a modest amount of game. As they went back to check on the traps, they would find various little woodland animals ensnared within: three hares, five squirrels, three fat quails, and a particularly lucky string of four pheasants in one spot.

Blackwall bagged the dead animals in his pack. He'd been able to find two more squirrels when he checked on the traps that yielded their lunch earlier, so the kill count now went up to seventeen creatures. Each animal had died almost immediately after being snared, for that was how he intended it. But after he bagged the third pheasant, he noticed the fourth was still alive. The noose had not wound its neck as tightly and it was flapping frantically in an effort to free itself.

"What should we do?" Ahnnie asked, a bit distressed by the sight.

"Easy." Blackwall knelt down and grabbed the frightened bird by the neck. With a twist of his hand, he snapped it clean and the flapping was no more.

Without even knowing it, Ahnnie held a hand to her neck, unnerved by the _crack_ that so easily ended the little life in front of them. The pheasant was tossed into the pack as casually as the others and Blackwall walked off without a second thought to begin another round of the traps, checking to see if the empty ones captured new victims. When they still came up empty, Blackwall decided to call it a day and led the way back to Haven. But just as they were returning to the path, he spotted the buck again, and notched another arrow to his bow to see if he would be lucky this time around.

He was, striking cleanly behind the left foreshank where the heart was situated. The doomed buck made a startled leap in the air before tumbling down lifelessly. Blackwall then turned to the girl with something of a grin on his face.

"Go back to Haven," he told her, "and tell them to send out some people to help carry back the meat. We've got a big catch on our hands."

"On it," she nodded, and started away eagerly, glad she didn't have to be present for the carnage.

* * *

Visiting the Singing Maiden was like going over to the house of a rambling relative. Bad jokes, winded tales, and raucous laughter were the norm, but the atmosphere was cheery and the food, good. _It's good to be back_ , Ahnnie thought as she settled down with Varric and Blackwall at a table. There was also something of the eating-out atmosphere from Earth even though she rarely ordered food here, having no coins of her own and not wishing to freeload.

"What will you have?" Flissa asked them shortly after they sat down.

The two men ordered ale and beer, whereas Ahnnie settled on water, as per usual.

"You're always drinking water," Varric protested. "Try a beer instead. My treat."

She shook her had. "No, I – I couldn't. Thanks, but...but I couldn't."

"Get 'er a beer, Flissa," Varric ordered anyway.

"No!" Ahnnie negated. "Cancel that. Water." Turning to Varric, she explained, "I've never, um, had beer before. I'm not old enough to."

At this, Blackwall and Varric exchanged glances, then turned back to her. "Says who?" the dwarf asked at last.

"Says the law. I have to be twenty-one..." Then she faltered. "Where I come from, anyway."

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, did you know that in some cities, the water's so undrinkable everyone just drinks beer instead? Even the kids?"

Ahnnie blinked. "Wh-what?"

"Small beer," Blackwall clarified. "It has less alcohol than the stronger stuff."

"Well?" Flissa asked, clearly enjoying this exchange.

"Get her an ale, then," Varric corrected. "It'd probably be more palatable."

"Two ales, one beer...got it."

Ahnnie reached after the innkeeper. "No, Flissa!" But it was too late; the woman was gone in a zip to get their mugs. "Gee, thanks Varric," she said sarcastically. She straightened in her seat and huffed. "What's the difference between ale and beer anyway? I always thought they were the same."

Varric shrugged. "They're both made from grain, but ale's sweeter and brewed at warmer temperatures without hops."

 _...whatever that means._ "I'm not going to get drunk, am I?" she then asked, sounding worried. What did being drunk even feel like? Would she start acting stupidly? God forbid she made a laughingstock of herself in front of the entire tavern! It'd be the talk of Haven for months!

"Not as quickly as if you drank wine," Blackwall assured her. "Don't worry, we'll stop you before you consume too much."

When the drinks came out, Ahnnie felt as though the executioner had come to deliver her doom at the chopping block. She stared bewilderingly into the mug in front of her as though expecting a monster to leap out from it at any moment. She bent her head towards it, sniffing uncertainly. _Smells kind of buttery...maybe even fruity..._

"It's not gonna bite," Varric chuckled before downing some of his own drink.

 _I hope,_ she thought, and steadily began to hold the mug in her hands. She blew a little on the froth and watched it make a small hole, revealing a dark caramel-colored liquid within. Squinting studiously into that window of liquid, she saw tiny bubbles rising to the surface. _So it's carbonated_ , she deduced, but she didn't know how much. She aimed a quick glance upwards at the men before her, saw that they were watching, and looked back down at her drink.

"All right, here goes nothing," she muttered, and lifted the mug to her lips.

What followed was a curious sensation. No, she did not get drunk right away, but as the ale slid down her throat it felt like downing warm soda with light carbonation. The taste was grainy, striking a strange balance between sweet and bitter...not exactly the best in the world, but one she could strangely tolerate.

" _Oho!_ " Ahnnie coughed after finishing that sip. Her mouth was still tingling with the warmth, and a sort of fumy, heady essence could be tasted at the back of her tongue. It was not that it was too much for her to handle; more like too strange, too new.

"Well?" Varric asked, a smile playing on his lips.

Ahnnie wiped her mouth and stared down at her mug. "It's not that bad," she admitted. "And it's different, but I guess...I kind of like it..."

He gave her an I-told-you-so look and raised his drink in the air. "Here's to a good day's hunt," he declared. "I heard you shot down the biggest buck Haven's ever seen."

"It wasn't that big," Blackwall deflected. "They just haven't seen some good meat in a while." But he raised his glass nonetheless.

Ahnnie looked from dwarf to bearded human and tentatively raised hers as well. "Cheers," she said, and took another swig.

* * *

"Hey, Flissa, get her another one."

"On the double, Master Tethras."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Blackwall inquired.

"A second mug can't hurt," Varric shrugged.

Ahnnie giggled. "Okay, one more."

The innkeeper beckoned a serving girl over, who took the empty mug away and went to fetch a new one. Ahnnie meanwhile sat complacently in her seat, feeling rosy and warm and contented in a way she'd never been before. She felt the buzz more acutely in her head, particularly around the temples and cheeks – a numbing sensation, like padded cushions, smoothing the jagged boundary between thought and reality. Elsewhere, movement felt light as a feather and slow as syrup at the same time.

Most of all, she couldn't stop smiling. It was practically her default resting face at this point. The moment she straightened her mouth in an attempt to look serious, up it would curve again, and she laughed even when Varric wasn't joking.

Her second mug of ale was soon deposited beside her and she clutched it almost immediately. She took a sip, smacked her lips, and settled the mug down, suddenly taken in with the contours of the wooden table below them. They looked like the waves of the sea...

"Eey, speaking of the sea," Ahnnie suddenly blurted out, "anyone up for a trip to Val Royeaux?"

There was a momentary pause, which Varric quickly broke. "Well, sure, captain," he jested. "When do we set sail?"

She made a face at him. "C'mon, I'm being serious...anyway, I dunno when we're leaving. But it's the thing with the Chantry, you know? I gotta go talk to them...And I can use some people who know how to fight with swords."

"Of course. You never know when those Chantry clerics decide to get tough. They might even use a verse or two from the Chant of Light."

And just like that, she was laughing all over again. "Va-Varric!" Ahnnie protested, practically breathless.

At least Blackwall took her seriously. "You're expecting trouble in Val Royeaux?"

"Aeesh," a sound with the same meaning as a _tsk_ , "Commander Cullen just said I should bring people with swords. Something about...he didn't want to be too worried." Then she took another drink, a big gulp this time.

"I've nothing better to do," Blackwall then said. "Might as well come along."

"Who else are you inviting to your little party?" Varric couldn't help but continue teasing.

"I was thinking maybe Solas...I haven't talked to him in a while..." While that was not a hundred percent true, things seemed strained between them. At least, they did to Ahnnie. The elf seemed more reserved than before, not necessarily cold but not quite as open, especially when talking of magic or the Fade. Then again it was probably her guilty conscience agonizing itself over what she said the day they met Blackwall.

"An elven apostate, in the capital of the Chantry? Scandalous!"

"Yeah, well, who gives a shit?" Ahnnie suddenly bit back. "It's twenty sixteen! People should stop being fucking racists, for crying out loud!" When she realized what she'd just said a moment later, she clamped a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god," she slurred, still capable of social awareness despite her little slip-up. "Did...did anyone hear that?"

When she looked around the room and saw some patrons frowning, others attempting to stifle their laughter, she hid her face in her arms. "Oh my god..." _This was exactly what I didn't want happening,_ she mentally lamented. While her physical actions may not have been so composed, she found that her mental capacity was mostly intact – even if it didn't have much of a say over her decisions anymore.

Varric's eyes crinkled with mirth. "You tell them, Ahnnie," he chuckled. "Make them quake in their robes."

She held her hands up in apology. "Ey, I didn't mean to, I swear..."

Blackwall shook his head at her when he saw how distressed she seemed. "You're fine," he assured her. "And you're right. People shouldn't discriminate so much. Haven't a clue what the number two thousand sixteen means for this, though," he added in a quiet mumble. "Anyway. Solas is all right. It's not like there're no elves in Val Royeaux. They're just...not respected, is all."

Ahnnie frowned as she lifted her mug to her lips again. "That's gonna change," she promised them in an almost prophetic manner. To emphasize her point, she jabbed an impious index finger at them. "Just you wait n' see...one day, it'll all be different..."

This time she spoke more quietly, so that only Blackwall and Varric could hear. Which was just as well, for they knew some of the people of Haven weren't all that partial to elves either. The discrimination was present even within Ferelden, where elves were still segregated into city alienages and more or less looked down upon in the countryside.

"If you're looking for people with swords, why're you asking me?" Varric then asked to change the subject. His voice was still light and teasing, and it both amused and annoyed her at the same time.

"Who cares about swords?" she rebutted. "That's just what the Commander said. As long as you can knock out a bad guy, you're okay with me..."

Blackwall leaned over towards her and checked her mug. "Perhaps you've had too much," he suggested, sliding it away from her.

"It's just a few more ounces," she protested. "Lemme finish it."

"It's half a mug," he corrected her. "You look like you've had enough, anyways."

"How many fingers am I holding?" Varric asked, holding up his index and middle.

"Two, duh," she answered impetuously. "I'm not _that_ drunk!"

"Yet," Blackwall said, and stood up from his seat. "Can you stand? I think you should return to your cabin now."

"Of course I can!" Ahnnie shot up as quickly as she could, as though that could prove to Blackwall how much control she still had. But when she took a step to the side, the ground lurched beneath her and threatened to give way. Her head, suddenly unstable on her neck, felt like it was going to roll off. Before she could fall, the Warden caught her by the arm.

"I'm taking you back to your cabin," he decided with finality.

"No need for that, Master Blackwall," Flissa interjected, appearing by his side as though by magic. "I'll take her up to my room. She can rest there for the night. Save yourself the trouble."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," the innkeeper affirmed. "I'll take her up right now. Please, sit down, and let me know if you need anything else when I get back, all right?" When the Warden seated himself again, Flissa turned back to Ahnnie and led her up the stairs, carefully supporting her lest she slip and fall. After the Herald of Andraste's head finally hit the pillow, she was out faster than Flissa could blow the candle. The short haired woman smiled and tucked her into bed before making her way downstairs again.


	14. Chapter 12

Flissa was up and about at the crack of dawn, seeing to the business of her tavern. She was not expecting many patrons so early in the morning, or during much of the daylight hours, for that matter; before and after the disaster of the Conclave, the greatest hours of business were the ones closest to the day's end. But things had changed, and the Singing Maiden now served a double purpose as the haunt of Inquisition soldiers and refugees. While most of the latter could rely on the charity of the Chantry, the Singing Maiden provided a jovial atmosphere that was so painfully lacking in their lives. Sometimes when the Chantry kitchens were over capacity, a few of the flock would head to the tavern, the only other place besides compassionate locals to find any nourishment. Flissa couldn't bring herself to demand any coin from them, especially the youngsters.

The former were a hardier bunch, but no less welcome. They weren't free to frequent her establishment as often as they'd like, but whenever they did come, they paid well and spread hope for a better future with their presence. They were a symbol of the Inquisition's growing power, a symbol of better times to come and order to be restored. They also saved her the trouble of hiring bouncers when things got rowdy. Netta liked to talk to them, to ask them about their day and listen to their stories. Many of them were new recruits, so they had not much experience fighting for the Inquisition in other places, but on lucky days the veterans would be there and recount their adventures to the little girl – both of their time in the Inquisition, and before. As a result, Netta became something of a mascot to them, a little plaything they would spoil from time to time.

Flissa gave the dining area a cursory glance before turning round the corner into the kitchen. The floors and the hearth had been swept by one of the serving girls before closing time and looked as immaculate as remote mountain village tavern could get. There had been no broken furniture in the past three months, much the woman's satisfaction.

 _That's how it should be,_ she thought. _Extra costs aside, I can't serve Sister Leliana well with a tavern of ill repute. That would not do._ She used to act as an informant to the spymaster back when she managed an inn in Denerim. When Leliana offered her the chance to own her own establishment, she jumped at the opportunity regardless of its location. Ever since she took control, she promised to run the Singing Maiden to the utmost of her ability; doing otherwise would have made her feel like an ingrate.

"Morning, Osbert," she greeted as she entered the small kitchen; it was alternately walled with wood and plaster to decrease the chances of catching fire. "Smells divine. A new special?"

"Morning, Fliss," the squat middle-aged man greeted back. He had a bald pate ringed by a crown of rough, black hair and a short beard connected to a mustache on his upper lip. "As special as I can make it," he then said in response to her question. "Got a share of the venison the Grey Warden shot the other day...it ain't gonna last, but it's going to make a fine meal."

"I don't doubt it. Everyone loves your cooking." A knowing smile played on Flissa's face. "The Herald of Andraste called it the best she ever tasted."

"In her life," Osbert pointedly added, and his voice was swollen with pride.

"Get a bowl ready for her breakfast, then," the innkeeper said. "She stayed the night upstairs and will probably wake up soon."

At that, Osbert started fussing over the pot anew, paying extra attention to the flavors and ingredients as though his life depended on it.

Flissa exited the kitchen and set to work opening the shutters, letting the early morning light fall upon the stones in a soft, milky glow. The serving girls would be here soon to assist Osbert and do another sweep-over of the floor before strewing the rushes. When all the windows were no longer shuttered, she unlocked the tavern door, officially opening it up for business. Then she went to her place behind the bar, sorting out freshly cleaned mugs and cups and giving them yet another careful wipe. The action may have been unnecessary but to Flissa, it was safe and familiar, a ritual that began her day and gave her leave to let her thoughts drift.

Just then, the tavern door opened. _A customer, so soon?_ she wondered, and looked up from her wiping.

In the doorway stood a windswept young man, dressed in traveling clothes and a thick cloak. His face was reddened from the cold and snow shook from his boots with every step he took. She could tell he wasn't from around here, for she was well acquainted with the locals. "I've come from Ostwick with a package for a Lady Ahnnie," he informed the confused innkeeper.

Flissa nodded. "You can set it down on the counter; I'll bring it up to her."

As he was doing so, the innkeeper motioned for him to sit down. "Make yourself comfortable," she insisted, "and I'll get you a hot drink."

"Thank you," the messenger breathed, and she went to fix him some hot cider, which he gratefully accepted, before taking the wrapped package and heading upstairs to her room. It was the last one on the left and when Flissa opened the door, she could see that Ahnnie was sound asleep, tucked in the same position as she had been the previous night. With careful steps the innkeeper crossed the room and gently shook the girl on the shoulder.

"Rise and shine," Flissa sing-songed. "Does your head hurt? I have just the thing for a hangover. It's Osbert's secret recipe."

"Mmm..." Ahnnie's eyes fluttered open at the disturbance of her slumber and stared out at Flissa as if seeing her for the first time. "Flis...sa?" she drawled confusedly, her brows furrowed.

"You were too drunk to get home last night," the innkeeper explained.

Ahnnie rose herself into a sitting position and blinked drowsily at the room about her. She would find that it was largely nondescript, a modestly sized room of wooden walls and floors, with a trunk, desk, and chair as the only furniture. The only decoration was a single framed painting on the wall opposite the bed. It was a still life of a vase of spring flowers; color in a colorless room. A parting gift from a friend in Denerim, Flissa recalled.

"Oh my god," the girl exclaimed when it all dawned upon her. "I'm _so_ sorry–"

"'Twas no problem," Flissa reassured her.

"No, I have to pay you for using this room–"

 _I shouldn't let her know it's mine, then,_ the innkeeper thought. _A good thing I put the cot away, and that Netta stayed at a friend's house last night._ For she and Flissa shared this room, and Flissa didn't trust the little girl to keep from boasting about the matter. "Nonsense," she said at last. "I was more than happy to oblige. I didn't think it a good idea for both you and Master Blackwall to stumble through the night; those stone stairs can get real icy this time of year." Then, remembering the package, she handed it over to the girl. "A messenger came bearing this for you. Take a gander at it now if you like, but do refresh yourself and come downstairs for some breakfast when you're ready."

* * *

Ahnnie groaned and fell back on the pillow. _Nooooo,_ she thought in dismay, _what have I done?_ Creeping shame and humiliation swept over her at once. _I_ have _to repay her when...well, when I can. Now that I think about it, I'm still as broke as the day I first came here._ Indeed, there was not a penny to her name. _Does being part of the Inquisition include an income? I'll have to ask Cassandra about that._

But for now, there was this strange package sitting in her lap to deal with. Ahnnie sat up and regarded it curiously, wondering what could be beneath the brown paper wrapping. She pulled an end of the twine that tied it together and the knot gave way. Cautiously, she undid the paper wrapping, and found a dark leatherbound book sitting neatly in its confines; on top of the book, blocking most of the cover, was a folded piece of parchment paper.

Ahnnie picked it up and unfolded it. It was a letter written in cheap ink, but the handwriting was flowery and practiced.

 _Dear Ahnnie,_

 _You are probably reading this after you have returned from the Hinterlands. I have heard many good things from there in the past few days, with more to come, I'm sure. I trust you've had an agreeable time and hope your return trip was safe._

 _With this letter you will find a copy of the book I lent you while I was in Haven. I was just in Kirkwall three days ago, perusing a bookstore, when I saw it and thought of you._

 _When next we meet, you must tell me what you think of it. Don't forget to have it signed by the author!_

 _Best Wishes,_

 _Eliana_

With a wide grin, Ahnnie put the letter aside and found the muscular man on the cover of _Hard in Hightown_ staring back at her. She brushed it slowly with her fingers, as if unable to believe it was real. But it was.

 _I almost forgot about Evelyn,_ the girl thought. _She probably had to keep her family from knowing she was writing to me,_ for the paper and ink were of cheap quality and the letter was signed with her cover name. _Still, t_ _his was so kind of her! I must write her back._

Throwing the covers off her feet, Ahnnie made the bed and quickly refreshed herself from a water basin on the desk. She next grabbed hold of the package – wrapping, twine, book, and letter all – before rushing down the stairs. Her spirits were soaring and she couldn't stop grinning (though thankfully, she was not drunk). She felt like a child on Christmas day.

* * *

The messenger said the sender was happy to receive a reply and Ahnnie set off at once for her cabin to write it. She wanted to be sure it was okay to reply before actually doing so; maybe this was just a one time thing and Evelyn didn't want to arouse the Trevelyan's suspicions with more letters. But if it was all right, then the Ostwick mage was probably confident in her ability to receive the correspondence privately.

 _My first ever penpal, right here in Thedas,_ Ahnnie thought in awe.

A delicious bowl of Osbert's venison stew sat warm in her stomach as she made her way across town, the book and letter re-wrapped in its brown paper and tucked under her armpit. As she switched between excitement for the letter and guilt for the freeloading, she added the savoury breakfast on her list of debts to the Singing Maiden. Oh, and the price of a meal and drink to Varric as well. The fact that she could still count what she owed satisfied her immensely. She so hated to be in other's debts, though they were nothing but nice to her.

The moment she stepped foot inside her abode, she wet the ink and unrolled some paper and let the words flow from there. She thanked Evelyn – er, this time Eliana – for the book and would be sure to read it and treasure it as one of her most prized possessions. She looked forward to the day they could meet to discuss it, and if Eliana knew of other good titles, perhaps she could suggest them to her? Also, did she ever read _Swords and Shields_? Was it really as bad as the author himself believed?

 _Oh well, I'll get myself a copy and read it anyway,_ Ahnnie wrote. She ended the letter with good wishes and folded it in three parts, like the other letter had been, before rushing out of her cabin to catch the messenger. He would be staying the night in Haven but she felt as though he might disappear if she didn't go fast enough. When she handed the letter to him, she was breathless from running. He found her determination amusing and promised her it would reach the intended recipient within a fortnight. On the topic of payment, he showed his good character by refusing it; the one who employed him already promised to pay for any such expenses.

With that taken care of, Ahnnie could rest easy as she strode towards the tavern door, and maybe partake in some excitement as she awaited a response from Ostwick. Now she knew why penpals were so appealing. But before she could exit, she stopped, remembering Lady.

 _A little visit wouldn't hurt._ So she turned around and made for the side door instead.

When she approached the dog's stall, she saw Lady dozing contentedly on a soft bed of straw. Ahnnie paused at the stall door, not wanting to disturb the pregnant dog's sleep. Netta wasn't around to squeal over Lady, she noticed, but that was okay – Lady needed rest, carrying such precious cargo as she was. Ahnnie traced the curves of her bloated side as it heaved up and down in time to her breathing. Swollen breasts lined the bottom of her stomach, smooth and pink like fleshy little fruits.

 _By god, she's almost ready,_ Ahnnie thought in shock. It was only now that she noticed it, but the bulge of the dog's belly was close to the farther end of her body; as the pregnancy advanced, the pups moved closer to the pelvis. S _he might even whelp tonight!_

But there was neither the time nor reason to continue gawking at Lady, for Ahnnie was due to report to Corporal Hargrave any minute now. Lessons resumed today, after all. With a last loving look at Lady, Ahnnie left the Singing Maiden and went to fetch her glaive-guisarme from her cabin in preparation for the lessons.

* * *

Polearm lessons finished, Cassandra was again unavailable for sword practice and there was no need to continue riding lessons, so Ahnnie went directly to Josephine's office again. Luckily, there were no icy nobles to waylay her in the Chantry. But when she entered the ambassador's office, she received a bit of unpleasantness anyway in the form of a lecture.

"You should not have let yourself get so intoxicated last night," Josephine scolded her after she sat down. "I heard of what happened, and of what you said – it is not dangerous, but borders upon it. And the language you used! What should happen if you went further? What if the wrong person were to hear it? As the Herald of Andraste, you have an image to uphold."

Ahnnie blushed. "I'm sorry, Josephine," she apologized. "I didn't mean to act out. However, I do think the way the elves are viewed is preposterous, and I still intend to ask Solas to come along with me to Val Royeaux. But of course, when I go drinking from now on, I'll watch myself more closely," she added.

Josephine nodded. "I understand; I, too, think the current views on elves are deplorable. Neither do I want to stop you from enjoying a drink. However, many people think in certain ways of the elves, and it is dangerous to come across as overly aggressive to them."

Ahnnie understood that. Bigotry was not easily overcome; a rule that held true in both Earth and Thedas. But change was always possible, and always happened. It was just a matter of when. Still, she let the matter die there and sat back in anticipation of the upcoming diplomacy lesson. It was more of the same, but with the impending journey to the heart of Orlais looming ahead of them, it was more vigorous. Josephine even gave her a notebook to take notes with.

"Study it well, but do not let yourself be caught consulting it," she warned Ahnnie. "It would only tell the Orlesians that you are forgetful and unlearned."

 _That's a reassuring thought to think of,_ Ahnnie remarked sarcastically when the lesson ended. Josephine meant well, of course, and Ahnnie would not have minded rereading her notes carefully that night; but she'd just been notified during the lesson that the Big Four (her new nickname for Cassandra, Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana) decided on a date for the trip. And that date was only a few days away.

 _Well, she never said anything about_ not _bringing it along,_ Ahnnie pointed out as she strolled out of the Chantry. It made her feel rather proud to have noticed a loophole in Josephine's words, just as the ambassdor herself had taught. _I'm getting the hang of this already._ Bold words, but giving oneself a little ego boost every once in a while wasn't such a sin.

Ah, and now that her thoughts were on Val Royeaux, she curiously turned her direction towards one of Haven's lower tiers. Her heart beat nervously in her chest at the thought of what Solas would say; if he declined to come along, was it because she displeased him? Had she really destroyed their friendship because of some fear and careless words?

 _Nonsense, he's not like that...it's all just in my head._

When she finally found Solas, it was not in the old place where they used to talk; rather, it was outside Haven walls, a little ways away from the construction site. A camp was also visible nearby, the makeshift abodes of new Inquisition recruits.

"I guess they trust you enough to let you out beyond the gates now," Ahnnie joked to catch his attention. Then she immediately regretted it. _That sounded like an insult_ _._

But Solas smiled at her good-naturedly. "And I'm surprised they're trusting enough to let _you_ out, considering what happened in the tavern."

She jolted. _He knows!?_ As she scrambled to make a comprehensible reply, the hedge mage laughed.

"It is all right, da'len. It happens. Such is the double-sided nature of alcohol."

At this, she settled down. "Well, if you know so much about it, _hahren_ ," she began, "did you also know I wanted to ask if you could come with us to Val Royeaux?"

Solas arched an eyebrow at her use of the Elvish word. "Yes, I had heard. It was in connection to a more colorful statement that you made."

Her face reddened all over again, and not just from the cold.

"Since you so strongly insisted, I will come," Solas then said. "It has been some time since I've been to that city; both in the Fade, and in waking life."

"Oh? You've actually been before?"

He nodded. "I even entertained in the houses of several nobles." When her eyes widened, he explained, "For some Orlesians, it is a secret thrill to host a hedge mage in their homes. Though of course, they do not keep me for long."

Ahnnie opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. "Those damn Orlesians! They're so confusing."

"Even more surprises await you there, as you will no doubt discover." He gave her a gentle smile. "But enough on that. I thank you for your words on the elves, even if they were delivered a bit roughly. It gladdens me to hear that someone thinks as you do."

She never expected to hear it put that way. But now that she did, it made sense; Solas hated the plight of the elves, for he was an elf himself. It was so easy to forget that distinction because of how irrelevant his race was to him as a person. Just as it made no sense to judge based on skin color, it never crossed Ahnnie's mind to treat anyone based on the shape of their ears or their stature. But it was practically second nature to a majority of humans across Thedas. Meeting with such receptions everywhere one went must surely have been demoralizing.

"You're welcome," she replied, touched by his words. "I...I'm glad they made someone happy."

And so it was settled. Solas didn't hate her, and he was coming along to Val Royeaux.

* * *

Preparation, preparation, preparation – that was all their time seemed to be spent with: preparation.

This was no jaunt to the Hinterlands, after all. This was an actual diplomatic visit, to what was considered the center of civilization in Thedas. This held the same weight as an official visit to the Vatican. Mess it up, and it would ruin the Inquisition's chances for a long time to come.

A pity the time they had left was so short!

The trip was already a day away, and Ahnnie felt so unprepared every time she checked her baggage. Yes, she packed days ahead of time; she just had to. But something would be imperfect there, lacking here, and she would take it all out to do it over again. Even more stressful than the packing was Lady Josephine's many tips on diplomacy and the Grand Game, stored in that dreadful little notebook.

 _I never want to look at it again!_ Ahnnie cried as she tossed herself stomach-down onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow.

But then a moment later she got up to pack it away, satisfied that it was neatly tucked in between some clothes and therefore, out of her sight. Abhorrent though it was, she would need it where she was going.

After staring awhile to admire her handiwork, Ahnnie shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. _I need to get out of here,_ she thought. _I need to look at something else other than that damn bag._ Netta and the Singing Maiden instantly beckoned for her attention, and in response to that, Lady. _Oh, yeah! Did she give birth yet? I haven't heard..._

When she came to the tavern, the answer was no; but it would be soon, for the moment Netta showed her to Lady's stall, it was evident that the dog was already in the beginning stages of labor. The straw had been scratched and pawed up into a snug little nest, Lady herself was panting at twice the normal rate, and occasionally she would get up again to pace about the nest and adjust it wherever she thought it was lacking.

"Tonight, for sure," Ahnnie murmured, with conviction this time.

* * *

The lantern swung with the movement of the wind, creaking lightly at the hinges of the handle. Pale orange light danced upon the snow wherever the lantern swayed, its light too feeble for Ahnnie to illuminate her path in this building snowstorm, but that was not her purpose.

She snuck around in the darkness of Haven, heading right for the tavern, but not going straight to its doors. No, it was closed this time of night. She went around the tavern instead, heading for the side where she knew the stables were. Why she allowed herself to go at this hour, stealing about like a thief in the night, she couldn't comprehend. She only remembered that she couldn't sleep, and it was late when she was startled awake. But she had no desire to be elsewhere, for she had been struck with the sudden urge to witness Lady's birthing.

Tip-toeing quietly amongst the stalls, where the horses slept with soft nickers and breaths, Ahnnie's lantern was now put to better use. Its light seemed not so feeble anymore, but wasn't so bright that anyone looking in from the tavern could see her. Or so she hoped.

Even if she didn't know which stall it was, the smell and the sounds would have been enough to guide her. Though unpleasant, the smell was nostalgic to her: metallic and watery, almost like blood but not quite. She was taught from memory to register it differently because of the little bundles of joy whose arrival it heralded. And the sound, of course, was Lady's hammer-like panting.

Ahnnie approached the stall door and opened it quietly. She placed the lantern at her feet and slowly knelt down, watching Lady lying in the straw; the dog returned her gaze, tongue sticking out of her mouth and jerking merrily with each rapid breath. The human girl crept closer and stopped; closer, then stopped; and repeated this process until she was comfortably situated in a corner of the stall. Lady in the meantime had no objections to her presence. But when she attempted to stroke the dog's back, Lady growled before the hand could even touch the scraggly brown fur.

 _You can be here, but you're not to come any closer,_ was the message. Ahnnie sat back, a little startled but understanding nonetheless.

"At least you trust me this much," she said with a smile to the dog. Lady gave her a last round-eyed look before laying her head back down on the straw.

And then it came; without a noise, so that Ahnnie might have missed it if she weren't looking, a straw-colored fluid rushed from Lady's backside and into the straw bedding. Ahnnie straightened up in her seat so that she might get a clearer look. Shortly after the passing of the liquid, a dark, wet, circular mass began to push through the outer lips of the vulva. Lady's head rose again as she began to strain this dark mass out of her. Ahnnie fought the temptation to help, reminding herself that this wasn't Cixi, who trusted her more wholly than Lady did.

With a thick _squelch_ , the little mass was expelled, wet and slimy and encased in a transparent sack of liquid with the umbilical cord sticking through. Lady's instincts kicked in, making her reach over to catch the sack in her teeth and chew it open to free the little puppy inside. Then she chewed on the umbilical cord, shortening it to a manageable length. A few seconds later, there was another squelch as a dark red blob passed through the vulva; the placenta, which Lady gulped up as soon as she could.

Ahnnie smiled as she remembered her little brother's face of disgust when he saw Cixi doing the same thing. She could almost hear his voice, yelling out that comical ' _Eeeew!_ ' before he ran downstairs to gag into the kitchen sink.

The first pup often seemed like the most doted upon, with the mother completely absorbing her attention with it, licking it dry and sniffing it, even rubbing her furry cheek against it. Meanwhile the squirming pup would utter a mewling cry and crawl like a blind little rat towards a teat, hungry and eager for milk. Then as its littermates came, the routine would become familiar and attention diverted equally amongst the pups. Ahnnie longed to hold the little velvety body, to look into the wrinkled, squinting face – so _cute! –_ but refrained from doing so out of respect for Lady.

After the first pup was dried and suckling, Lady lay back down on the straw again. There would not be another pup for twenty minutes or even four hours. The effort had, no doubt, taken up much of her strength; she would need to rest up for the next one.

Ahnnie yawned and she, too, settled her head back into the wooden corner of the stall.

* * *

A sharp intake of excited breath. " _Puppies!_ " came the childish squeal a moment later.

Ahnnie cracked open an eye and found dim sunlight filtering through the gloom of the stables. Beside her was a lantern, long since extinguished. With a groan, she stirred herself into a straighter position, and found an eager little face peering down from above her.

"Netta, hi," she greeted the little girl as she rubbed her eyes.

Netta giggled. " _You_ don't look like a puppy, though. What are you doing here?"

"You spent the night here, your ladyship?" Nala asked incredulously, and Ahnnie's eyes quickly picked up her skinny form standing beside Netta.

Ahnnie looked about the stall. Lady was lying on her side, dozing; on her belly, three fat little pups were suckling from her teats. "Yeah, I guess I did," she affirmed at last. "Hey, Nala, you were right; it's three puppies!"

Once she had removed the lantern and her person from the stall did the girls start talking animatedly about the new arrivals. They huddled around the stall door, chatting in quiet voices to both set an example for Netta and to give Lady some peace and quiet.

"Are they boys? Are they girls?" Netta asked. "Oh, if there's a boy, I want to name it Charley!"

"Did you check their sex?" Nala then asked Ahnnie.

The drowsy human girl shook her head. "No, actually, Lady wouldn't let me get too close. Plus I was asleep while the last two came out."

"Maiden, if one is a girl!" Netta piped up from in between them.

"'Tis all right," Nala assured. "We will find out in a couple of weeks, when they can walk around. Hopefully, Lady will trust us with them by then."

Ahnnie felt a tiny pang of disappointment. _I won't get to see them at that stage...I'll be in Val Royeaux, and I'm not yet sure for how long._ Oh well. It wasn't as if she wasn't going to ever see them again. Then, remembering something, Ahnnie turned to Nala with purpose in her eyes. "Nala, while I'm away in Val Royeaux, you must promise me something."

The elven girl blinked. "Yes, my lady?"

"If, for some reason, there isn't enough food for Lady, I want you to take from the rations in my cabin to feed her. And if the pups are weaning by then, do the same thing. There should be enough to go around; I haven't had the chance to use them up yet."

Ahnnie held Nala's wrist in a firm grip at this point, startling the elf. So much so that her thin mouth was in an O. "My lady..."

"Nala." Ahnnie's tone grew fierce. "This isn't a question, it's an _order_."

There was a period of silence between them, which the startled elf broke a moment later. "I wasn't arguing with you, my lady. I was just surprised that they meant so much to you."

 _Oh._ Now Ahnnie felt stupid. "Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to sound harsh. But yes, in a way, they do." She looked back at the three wiggling forms in the straw and saw in her minds eye a line of nine of them; a puppy almost killed beneath his mother's weight, then saved in the nick of time by quick thinking; a puppy grown into a big dog and sent away to live in Tennessee.

She knew then that her heart had already adopted these three as its own. Turning back to Nala, she gave the elven girl a gentler smile. "Just promise me that, and I can go to Val Royeaux in peace."

"Yes, my lady, I promise you."

Relieved, Ahnnie gave the puppies one last glance before she left the stables. _See you guys when I get back!_

* * *

 **A/N:** I heard about the Solas entertaining nobles thing in-game, but it was so long ago...if anyone has more info regarding this (or lack of it, if it's my memory makin' things up), don't hesitate to let me know.


	15. Chapter 13

The port city of Jader gleamed like a brilliant pearl in the sun. The day was balmy and blessed with clear skies, carrying the salt smell of the harbor on the wind. Gulls cried overhead and people milled about, calling out to one another in their lyrical voices. It was as lively and bouyant as the waves dancing upon the Waking Sea.

Eastern jewel of the Empire, it was called. And rightly so – towering in the distance were impeccable specimens of some of the most striking architecture Ahnnie had ever seen. They were whirling and fanciful, constructed to reflect the sea so close to where they were built. But they were also distant, separated from her by the more common streets and alleyways. She could only admire them as one reveres an elevated monarch seated on a high throne.

After arriving at the gates of Jader, their group was quickly harried through the winding streets and down to the docks, leaving little time to stop and admire the finer points of the city. At first, she was able to catch a glimpse of a gilded carriage or a masked figure here and there, but the closer they came to the harbor (the rougher side, at that), the less she saw of those strange masked Orlesians she had heard so much about. The common populace went unmasked and seemed indistinguishable to her from the Fereldens, but for their rosier and more sunkist complexions.

Regardless, Ahnnie enjoyed being in the city very much. It was a welcome change from the cold mountain roads, which had taken them almost twelve days to pass because of rough weather – two days behind schedule! – and the merry call of the seagulls, coupled with the tolling of ship's bells and foreign voices, filled her with a sense of adventure.

"It is done," Cassandra called to their little group, consisting of Ahnnie, Blackwall, Solas, and Josephine. Varric could not come for his own personal reasons. Ahnnie was a little disappointed, but understanding. "We are to come aboard."

The followed obediently up to the side of a sturdy wooden vessel, one of the many moored at the docks complete with sails and all that jazz, where a gangplank was laid for them. One by one they walked up the gangplank, Ahnnie coming in next to last before Cassandra, and once they were all aboard, the gangplank was stowed away and the ship lurched to action a few minutes later.

Ahnnie headed over to the rails on the port side while Cassandra and Josephine spoke with the captain. She watched the city of Jader as it slowly fell away, bobbing up and down in time to the ship's movement, as if it too were set adrift in the waters.

The soldiers Cullen sent with them would be traveling on a different ship and were set to meet up with them at the capital's docks. She rested her elbows on the wooden railing and allowed herself to be content with that fact, looking forward to when they could reunite in Val Royeaux.

* * *

This trip, just like the previous one, was filled with new experiences.

First, she had left Haven in the company of some twenty people. It was a new sensation, traveling with so many people at once. Though the soldiers were just a small regiment, it felt like going on a trip with half the population of Haven. So it must seem after many days of sharing campfires with one another, as well as private space and animals and roads.

And it was amusing to watch Lady Josephine travel, in particular. The Inquisition ambassador had draped herself with thick cloaks and furs as they traversed through the mountains, drawing them closer at every small breeze, and was rather insistent that she not have to bed down for the night so close to their mounts. She disliked their smell and found it unsanitary to do so. The result was that she was often the last one ready for the next day's march, not counting the minute examinations of her hands and other limbs upon waking for signs of the frostbite that she so dreaded.

Then Ahnnie was aboard a sea vessel, sailing for longer than a day, and temporarily prey to seasickness. The waters were mostly smooth, giving her little cause in actuality to be uncomfortable. The ship wasn't a stinking hellhole of claustrophobia, either. But when it came to the bathroom arrangements, Ahnnie should have known better than to expect anything like the crisp and clean cruise liner bathrooms. Instead, there was only one latrine situated in the head of the ship, shared by all. The pitching of the waves seemed to increase the ever present swirling in her stomach as a result, and she was confined to her cabin for a better part of the first day.

By the half of the second day, the sailors finally sighted Val Royeaux. Ahnnie had mostly recovered by then and stood with the others on deck to watch as they neared the fabled capital city. Two great statues of marble, each depicting a woman in a flowing dress reaching out a hand in the direction of the city, graced the entryway into the harbor. The docks, teeming with colorful merchant ships and small boats very much like canopied gondolas, beckoned to them with a long strip of white stone leading up to equally white walls.

It was there they disembarked and rejoined their soldiers. Coming together in a nice formation, they marched on foot toward the gates leading into the Summer Bazaar.

* * *

Ahnnie's head went this way and that as she took in the city around her, gilded baroque structures of white stone, stately and majestic, sporting primary colors such as rich blues, deep reds, and shimmering gold-yellows. The people were like complements to their background, their clothes a riot of color and their masks – a half mask there, a full mask here, almost everyone's faces covered in masks! It was like being at a Venetian festival.

Albeit, a festival with no sense of festivity in the air.

Though the Orlesians (or, as the citizens of Val Royeaux liked to call themselves, the Royans) around them milled about at leisurely paces, something seemed tense in their gait. It was not immediately noticeable until Ahnnie saw a masked young woman look at their party, pause, and continue on her way with stinted, uncertain steps. Several others followed her example, casting suspicious and shadowed glances at their advance.

"The city still mourns," Cassandra said from ahead of her, "and apparently recognizes us."

 _A shame,_ Ahnnie thought. _Val Royeaux looks like a nice place to be._ In fact, it had appeared in her imagination as much more vibrant than Jader.

To counter the mood, Blackwall made some observations of his own. "Val Royeaux, huh? I remember the first time I visited it, some thirty years ago. The market was not half as large, without the garish statues. And far fewer stands selling those ridiculous frilly little cakes." He looked pointedly at such a stand, displaying little pastries decorated in frilly icing.

"A lot changes in thirty years," Ahnnie remarked, looking in response at that same stand. The pastries looked delicious. "It must be nice to come back and see how it all went."

"Indeed. I hardly know I'm standing in the same city."

"The Val Royeaux market was once nothing but tents of oiled leather and mud," Solas put in from behind them, and they turned their attention to the elf. "Filled with ragged humans selling strings of beads made of bone."

Blackwall raised an eyebrow. "You saw this in the Fade?" The Warden was aware of Solas' Fade walking abilities by now. If it put him off, he didn't show it.

"Yes. I left that memory quickly. The smell..."

"Must have been ages ago."

"Oh, yes. It's much better now." Solas smiled. "I enjoy the frilly cakes."

Just as they came to the soaring archway preceding the walkway that led into the Bazaar, a young woman in the familiar green hooded mantle of the Inquisition forces intercepted them. "My lady Herald," she greeted Ahnnie, and bent down to kneel on one knee.

Where Ahnnie was confused to see another of the Inquisition in the city but not in their party, Cassandra was not. "You're one of Leliana's people," the Seeker recognized. "What have you found?"

"The Chantry Mothers await you," she informed them, "but so do a great many templars."

Cassandra sounded surprised. "There are templars here?" she asked.

The scout's face reflected the discomfort of the news she was bound to deliver. "People seem to think the templars will protect them from...from the Inquisition," she gave out at last.

At this, Ahnnie exchanged glances with Blackwall and Solas. Her eyes next went to Josephine, whose face seemed pensive.

"They're gathering on the other side of the market," the scout continued. "I think that's where the templars intend to meet you." She then rose, having finished her report.

Ahnnie immediately looked up to the Seeker for guidance; so natural was this instinct that she didn't even remember turning her head. Cassandra did not return the gaze, and her face appeared even more hardened than it usually was. "Only one thing to do, then," she declared, and ordered them to continue on into the Bazaar.

* * *

"They wish to protect the people," Cassandra murmured under her breath. "From _us!_ " She shook her head, her consternation all too clear in the tone of her voice.

Ahnnie looked up at the taller woman, wishing she could say something to make the situation seem better. "Maybe they misunderstood when they heard we were bringing soldiers."

"Enough to act as an envoy guard, not to invade their city," Cassandra reminded her.

Silence fell between them and Ahnnie looked elsewhere to distract herself. The fated market square loomed closer with every step; she felt doomed.

"You think the Order's returned to the fold to deal with us?" Blackwall then asked. At the beginning of the Mage-Templar war, the Seekers issued that neither they nor the templars would recognize Chantry authority, thereby nullifying their part of the Nevarran Accord.

Cassandra shook her head. "I _know_ Lord Seeker Lucius. I can't imagine him coming to the Chantry's defense, not after all that's occurred."

They said no more on the subject as they finally emerged into the Bazaar. The Bazaar itself was arranged in a ring-like fashion around a squat blue tower, red ribbon-like stretches of cloth emanating from the tower roof to the eaves of the higher buildings around it so that they cast a circle of long rectangular shadows on the marketplace below. Ahnnie could not find the time to marvel at its beauty, for the marketplace was eerily quiet; unlike the earlier streets, no one was strolling here, and only a few masked people stood clustered in their own little circles.

"The Inquisition is here, along with the 'Herald of Andraste'," one of them whispered as the party went by. The Orlesian accent was heavy in his voice; Ahnnie did not miss the fact that he used Common to speak in lieu of his native tongue.

"They say they found the otherworlder covered in the Divine's blood," one of his fellows joined in.

Another spat with indignance onto the paved ground below. "Let her pass; the Inquisition is the templars' problem. And they'll fix it."

Like a bad omen, a gallows stood not too far to the left of those Orlesians, which the Inquisition had to pass by as they walked. It was more likely a long-time fixture of the Bazaar, serving its purpose for public hangings whenever they occurred, but Ahnnie felt sick looking at the empty noose swaying in the breeze. She tried not to pay it too much attention as she followed the others towards the murmuring of a gathering crowd.

"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!"

The thin, rasping voice of a middle-aged Chantry Mother carried down from a wooden platform set up against the eastern end of the Bazaar, ringing with conviction like a preacher to a congregation. The audience, masked and unmasked Orlesians alike, listened to her every word with reverently bowed heads. She was flanked on both sides by two Chantry sisters and guarded about the platform with templars.

"Together we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart, silenced by treachery." She read these words like a poet, her voice winding down to a soft note as she spoke the of the Divine. Her eyes and hand notably gestured at the Inquisition party as they approached, zeroing in on Ahnnie in particular and giving the effect that she was speaking directly to the girl. "You wonder what will become of her murderer...well, wonder no more. Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell! We say this is a false prophet – no servant of anything beyond her own selfish greed!"

Just like that, the Chantry Mother's voice turned sharp and accusatory. The once silent crowd suddenly rippled with murmurs as they turned to stare at the blasphemous Inquisition; ripples that grew, and grew, until it was a wave of dissent.

Ahnnie felt a mixture of anger, disbelief, and discomfort as the audience turned on them. Had there been no soldiers, her group would surely have been overtaken by the angry crowd by now. _This is what Leliana was talking about_ , she thought. _This is what she warned me of._ In the midst of it the speaking Chantry Mother's eyes bore down on her, so full of hatred for someone she hadn't set eyes on until now. Such a stark comparison to the warm and kindly Mother Giselle.

Ahnnie felt a tug on her sleeve. "Say something," Josephine's voice whispered to her through the chaos.

 _But what?_ She wished Josephine could give her the words, but knew this was something she had to do herself. Finding a break in the crowd's protestations, she steeled herself against their barbed words and cried, "It doesn't matter who the Herald of Andraste is!" A little pause, in which she noted the desperation in her voice, and then adjusted it. "And bickering about who killed the Divine isn't going to do anything. I sure didn't, but I'm not here for a trial. I'm here to talk."

"It's true," Cassandra jumped in, seizing the opportunity. "The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late!"

Clinking metal sounded beyond the crowd to the platform's left. It fell and rose in unison in an almost military pattern. Upon hearing it, the Chantry Mother's face turned smug. "It is already too late," she corrected them, pointing in that direction.

They turned and saw a group of heavily armored men stepping up to the platform, breastplates emblazoned with the symbol of the Seekers. At their head was a pale man with dark, slicked back hair, his eyes stony and grim.

The Chantry Mother stepped aside as the men took up space on the platform. "The templars have returned to the Chantry!" she cried in exultation. "They will face the 'Inquisition', and the people will be safe once more!"

She seemed pleased with herself as she watched the Seekers gather about her. And then the nearest one threw a swinging punch at the base between her skull and neck, knocking her out cold.

 _What the fuck!?_ Ahnnie, along with the audience, gave out gasps of horror; the Chantry sisters screamed. Meanwhile, the templars continued to stand guard, seemingly oblivious to the events behind and in front of them.

Ahnnie didn't notice that she hadn't blinked until her eyes stung. _Did that guy really just...!?_ Coming back to her senses, she pushed through the Inquisition soldiers and Orlesians, rushing up to the platform to check on the fallen Mother. She went down on her knees so that the platform floor was level with her face, and peered anxiously into the slack visage of the Mother. "Are you all right? Hello? Can you hear me? Mother Hevara?" For she had heard the panicked sisters scream out that name. But no amount of calling or shaking seemed to wake the unconscious Mother up.

Feeling a surge of anger, Ahnnie glared up at the burly Seekers. "How could you!? That was completely unnecessary! She couldn't have done anything to you!"

"And it would have been acceptable if she could?" the dark haired Seeker countered before walking down the platform. He held Ahnnie's eyes in a passing glance, and she saw nothing but contempt emanate from his stony orbs. Behind him, a dark skinned templar gazed uncomfortably at Mother Hevara's prone figure before following the Seeker.

Cassandra started up in his direction. "Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with–"

"You will not address me," he interrupted coldly as he came off the last step.

Cassandra did not immediately respond, pausing for a moment to watch him lead the other Seekers and templars away. "Lord Seeker?" she then inquired.

Lucius paused in his tracks, slowly turning to face them. "Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet – you should be ashamed."

It didn't occur to Ahnnie that this Seeker was Cassandra's superior until now. Shooed away by the sisters from Mother Hevara after they recovered from their shock, she had no choice but to return to the group and watch this unpleasant exchange.

"You should all be ashamed!" Lucius snarled. "The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! _You_ are the ones who have failed. You, who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear!" An accusatory finger was levied against them all. "If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is _mine_."

"Then why are you here?" Ahnnie asked. Her voice still shook from her previous anger. "If it's not to help the Chantry, then what did you come for?"

Lucius' eyes locked with hers again. His lips curved into a sadistic, contemptuous smile. "I came to see what frightens old women so, and to laugh," was his chilling answer.

The dark skinned templar suddenly intercepted him. "But Lord Seeker," the templar began, "what if she really was sent by the Maker? What if–"

"You are called to a higher purpose," Lucius snapped. "Do not question!" To the Inquisition, he vowed, " _I_ will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void. _We_ deserve recognition. Independence! _You_ have shown me nothing," he reproached Ahnnie, "and the Inquisition...less than nothing." Turning to his men, he barked, "Templars! Val Royeaux is no longer worthy of our protection. We march!"

In a cold, orderly fashion, the men followed the Lord Seeker out of the Bazaar. The bewildered audience quickly made way for them, drawing back as far as they could as if they feared to receive Mother Hevara's rough treatment if they stood too close. The eastern side of the Bazaar became a buzz of murmurs and whispers as soon as the men were gone. In their nervous excitement, the people forgot about the Inquisition, although they still kept their distance.

"A charming reception," Solas remarked dryly.

"Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone _mad_?" Cassandra asked no one in particular.

Ahnnie frowned. "Did you know him well, Cassandra? Was he usually like this?"

"He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert's death," Cassandra explained. "He was always a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding...so no, he was not always like this. This is very bizarre."

Blackwall sighed and crossed his arms. "I guess that means the Inquisition won't be receiving any help from the templars, then."

"Fortunately, they are not our only hope," Josephine put in. "For every group that speaks against us, there will always be those willing to listen."

That was true. The people of Haven and the Hinterlands held them in positive regard; who knew if there might be more?

"I wouldn't write the templars off so quickly," Cassandra forewarned. "There must be those in the Order who see what he's become."

Ahnnie perked up as she remembered one such person. "That templar, earlier. He had his doubts."

"Exactly," Cassandra nodded. "He is probably not the only one, either."

 _But he was also quickly suppressed,_ Ahnnie reminded herself, and felt deflated again. _I wonder if that doubt is enough to persuade him?_ With a plaintive sigh, she looked back at the platform where Mother Hevara was lying. The Mother had regained consciousness and was sitting up, nursing an ache in the side she fell on. When Ahnnie told Cassandra the Mother had recovered, she signaled the group to return to the platform; the crowd around them had more or less dispersed by then, facilitating their passage.

Mother Hevara noticed their approached and narrowed her eyes at them. "This victory must please you greatly, Seeker Cassandra," she ground out.

"We came here seeking only to speak with the Mothers," Cassandra replied evenly. "This is not our doing, but yours."

"And you had no part in forcing our hand?" The Mother chuckled dryly. "Do not delude yourself! Now we have been shown up by our own templars, in front of everyone. And my fellow clerics have scattered with the wind, along with their convictions..." She suddenly winced as pain lanced her through the side and clutched it harder.

Ahnnie pursed her lips, wondering if it was okay to ask after her. But since she had taken quite a few liberties in speaking today, she decided to do it anyway. "Are you all right, Mother Hevara?" the girl asked timidly.

The Mother squinted uncertainly at her. "I am fine," she eventually spat out. "Just tell me one thing."

"Yes?"

"Do you _truly_ believe you are the Maker's chosen?"

Ahnnie blinked, taken aback by the question. "N-no," she stammered. "I don't think that at all...Why do you ask?"

Mother Hevara grimaced and shook her head. "That is...more comforting than you might imagine. I suppose it is out of our hands now...We shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come. _Oh!_ " At her sharp gasp, the Chantry sisters hovered closer to her and began, delicately, to pull her to her feet. "Not so quickly," she pleaded as they led her off the platform.

"Wait," Ahnnie called after them, but Cassandra held her back with a restraining hand.

"Let them go," said the Seeker. "There is no more we can ask of them now."

"Okay," the girl conceded with a sigh. Turning back to the group, she asked, "So what do we do now?"

"We are obviously not going to leave things unfinished with the Chantry," Josephine began. "Our next step should be to give them some time before approaching them again. Let today's events sink in; Lord Seeker Lucius' actions will be the talk of the city, and in their shock, the Chantry will overlook their condemnation of us. It is but a limited moment, however, so we must move quickly to sway the clerics still denouncing you before it wears off."

"Exactly _how_ soon should we do this?" Ahnnie asked. She was hoping some of this swaying could take place even after she returned to Haven; she had no desire to meet with angry Chantry Mothers face-to-face again.

"Preferably before the next Divine Election begins." Josephine shrugged. "It will be a continuous process, but I suggest we start at the prescribed time for it to have the right effect."

"For now, _I_ suggest we find a place to spend the night," Solas interjected. "It wouldn't do to be stranded in this city."

Josephine smiled. "Of course. Let me handle the arrangements."

The small Inquisition regiment then took their leave of the Bazaar as Josephine led the way to where she believed good lodgings could be found. As they passed beneath the graceful arches leading in and out of the circular marketplace, Ahnnie paused when her back prickled with the sensation of being watched. She slowly turned to see what it was, but saw nothing of import except for some masked Orlesians. Shaking her head, she resumed her pace and welcomed the chance to put the Bazaar behind her.

* * *

Lodgings for the night consisted of plain rooms in a quaint little inn. _L'auberge de Licorne,_ it was called – _The Unicorn Inn._ Despite the pretty name, the inn was largely nondescript and served a middling clientele. The Inquisition couldn't afford to waste its current resources on anything grander, and even if it could, the larger hotels would have refused to lodge them anyway. _L'auberge de Licorne,_ seeing a business opportunity in the Herald's fairly sized party, put economics before religious views and eagerly let out its rooms to them.

To save some of the cost, Ahnnie roomed together with Josephine and Cassandra. There was a pair of twin beds which two of them would have to share when night came. Ahnnie felt slightly relieved when it was decided that it would be the two older women; she liked them, but not enough to share that much space with either one of them. Other such arrangements were made between the others and the soldiers, since the inn would have run out of room otherwise.

In the evening a modest supper was laid out for them in the little dining area by the lobby, presided over by the innkeeper's chittery wife. "Have a seat, have a seat, _mes chers invit_ _és_! Please, make yourself at home! Ah, here comes the food – don't forget to blow, it is hot! _Bon appetit_!" As they ate, she continued to hover over them, watching their movements like a hawk and inquiring sweetly after them every few minutes.

She was mightily pleased with the tips some soldiers left behind when they were done. Ahnnie had the feeling that if they kept it up, the woman would happily kick out the other guests and rent the entire inn to the Inquisition, regardless of what the Chantry thought.

 _Some people,_ she thought in amusement as she shook her head.

Rather than languish in boredom in their little room after supper, Ahnnie decided to get some fresh Orlesian air to settle the food in her stomach. She was inspired by the idea after seeing some Inquisition soldiers leave the inn for a stroll. If they could do it, why couldn't she? Besides, Josephine was reading a book by the lobby fireplace, and Cassandra was somewhere else, perhaps even out on a walk as well. They wouldn't miss her.

She felt a secret sort of thrill as she slipped out the inn's door and made her way down the quiet street. Her back and hip moved freely without the weight of her glaive-guisarme and short sword, adding to the sense of freedom that enveloped her like the warm night air. It felt good to be alone, with nothing but the soft city lights illuminating her cobblestoned way and her thoughts to keep her company. She would be sure to stick close to the inn, but at the moment felt charmed and allured by the Orlesian capital city; the stately buildings, with their ornate facades and windows, lost much of the hostile edge she had associated with them during the daytime (no thanks to Mother Hevara). Soft music wavering in the distance reminded her of the sprightly French tunes one would hear if one ate out at a French restaurant or listened to French music.

 _Mom likes listening to French music_ , she remembered.

She stopped by a lamp post to wait as a gilded carriage, transporting four fancily dressed and masked personages, clip-clopped through the street she wanted to cross. Her eyes followed the carriage until it was nothing but a sparkling speck in the lamplight, vanishing into nothing like a wispy dream. What an enchanting place Val Royeaux was! She could almost swear she had stepped into the pages of a fairy tale world.

Ahnnie turned her head back around to begin the crossing. What other wonders awaited her down the next block? The question filled her with curiosity and excitement, but all that fled a moment later when a thin, elongated shadow suddenly pierced the air before her. She jumped like a startled cat and gave a slight yelp, despite not having been hit.

"An arrow!" Ahnnie whispered when she registered what the object was. The arrow was lodged upright in the cobblestones two feet away from her, slanting at a slight angle. _Did someone try to shoot me?_ She whirled around, looking left, right, up, but saw nothing amiss in the lamplit city around her. Finally, she turned back around to face the arrow. It was then she noticed the folded piece of paper pinned beneath the arrowhead.

Frowning, she reached out and plucked the arrow out of the stones. She dropped it after taking hold of the paper, which she now slowly unfolded, half expecting another heart-stopping surprise to jump out at her.

What the paper contained was a surprise in its own way, even if it wasn't heart-stopping. It was a message scrawled in a large, flowing hand, and the perimeter of the paper was bordered by funny doodles; below the writing was a poorly drawn map of the Summer Bazaar that Ahnnie mistook at first for a crooked key. Three spots on the key were marked with red ink. As for the message itself:

 _People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone._

 _There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords._

 _-Friends of Red Jenny_


	16. Chapter 14

_Someone is following me._

The thought darkened the enchanting atmosphere like the snuffing out of a candle. A leaden weight burdened her chest, and the doodles on the paper suddenly seemed menacing.

 _But who? And why?_

The message on the paper appeared harmless enough. If she believed it, then its author meant to help her. But the way it was delivered, and the mention of someone in the city wishing her harm...it was all too confusing. And that was not including the little scavenger hunt for 'red things'. She only wanted a relaxing evening, godammit. Not more of this scheming and intrigue.

But never mind that. She should report the incident to someone. Cassandra was the first person that came to mind.

Ahnnie refolded the paper and jogged back down her previous line of travel. She would break into a run, if need be; it was imperative that she not expose herself any longer than necessary in these quiet streets. But then she slowed until she came to a stop, her face burning with shame. _What am I, a baby? And Cassandra, my babysitter? The slightest hint of trouble, and I go running to her –_ except this wasn't a 'slight hint' of trouble. She would be completely justified in seeking help. So why did it make her feel incompetent?

A low humming in the night made her freeze. _Someone is here. The person who followed me?_ She looked up, for the humming originated from ahead of her, and she saw a big, dark figure walking slowly towards her. His face was very bushy, but she could not make it out in the dimness.

 _No, keep it cool. Maybe he's just a regular citizen. Pretend you're looking at that shop window there..._ Or would it be better if she just continued walking? Pass him by, act like she didn't notice him? Which would attract less attention?

She decided on the latter course, seeing as they would cross paths anyway, and resumed her stroll at a deliberate pace. Going too fast might make her seem shady, whereas if she supplemented with curious looks here and there, it would give her the appearance of a tourist bewitched by the beautiful city; as perfect a cover as someone like her could achieve. Whether the figure knew who she was or not was up to chance.

But as they neared each other, Ahnnie realized her misgivings were unfounded. With a bit of embarrassment, she recognized Blackwall's face under the soft illumination of a nearby lamp.

"Evening," the Warden nodded to her when they finally came face-to-face. "Out for a walk?"

Ahnnie smiled sheepishly. "Yeah..."

"It's nice weather out," he remarked. "For all their frippery, the Orlesians have some of the best climate their side of Thedas."

Ahnnie fidgeted, acutely aware of the paper in her hand. "Yeah," she echoed.

Blackwall arched an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

She pursed her lips. "Maybe...I..." Then it dawned on her. "Maybe you can help me!" Losing no time, she whipped out the folded paper and produced its contents for the Warden to see. She explained the circumstance behind its discovery as he took and read it carefully under the lamplight. "What do you think I should do?" she asked when he was done. "I don't have my weapons with me–"

"You don't mean to say you'll follow its directions?" Blackwall interrupted.

Ahnnie blushed. "Maybe it's just a prank. And those places – the market, docks, and cafe – they're not deserted areas, right? City guards should be there, and some of our people are out in the city as well. If I'm careful, perhaps it will turn out to be nothing, and I can go back to doing...well, whatever. Maybe _you_ can come along to help." She looked up at him pleadingly. "I just don't think it's such a big deal that we have to alert someone like...like Cassandra, for example."

She was still displeased to hear herself sound like she was asking for his permission. Whether she would go regardless of his answer was still an unanswered question, however. She wanted to deal with something on her own, yet have someone capable like Blackwall beside her in case she should run into trouble.

"If I find anything dangerous, I'll return immediately to the inn," she decided to add.

Blackwall looked down at the paper in his hand, then up at the girl before him. She worried for a moment that he would decline, and mentally berated herself for even having that worry, as though she should depend on him so much. "All right," he finally conceded, much to her surprise. "Go get a weapon, and we'll see what all this is about. Don't make yourself too conspicuous, though."

"Y-yes," she nodded, hardly able to believe they were going to go through with this. It was one thing to think of doing it; it was another to actually do it. She set off for the inn again at a jog, but not to hide from invisible enemies in the shadows this time.

* * *

"Right, so this is the marketplace–"

"Yes, and there's the locations of the red things marked in red." Obvious, much? "But I'm no good with maps. Do you think you can equate the marked spots to actual ones?"

Blackwall studied the paper as they walked towards the Summer Bazaar. "This is where we'll enter from," he said, pointing at a spot on the crooked key. "Closest red thing to us would be right here – either the cafe or some spot in the market." There were two red marks in the circle of the Bazaar, one on a lower level, another on an upper level. They weren't entirely sure yet which level the cafe was on, but Blackwall was pointing to the lower one.

"Should we split up, then?" Ahnnie asked. Since there were two items located within the Bazaar, she figured it would speed their progress if they went in search of each.

"Which level do you want to take?"

"The upper one, I guess?" _I didn't get to see that part of the market yet,_ she added as an afterthought. Funny how this was becoming a little sight-seeing venture as well.

Blackwall nodded. "All right. When you're done, meet me at the blue tower in the middle. And if I'm not there, you wait 'til I am," he added with a warning glance.

"Of course," she replied, rather chafed at how childish he seemed to think her.

They reached the Bazaar in ten minutes. Unlike that morning, it now glittered with sedate nightlife, flickering against the darkness like a gem in candlelight. Sweet music floated in the air as soft as a lover's whisper, and masked figures flitted between the arcades like elusive fairy creatures in a gilded wood, giggling and flirting with one another in their lyrical native tongue. To complete the picture, the tinkling of a fountain could be heard somewhere nearby.

Blackwall pointed to a section of the marketplace that led away from the main ringlike structure. "That's where I'll do my search," he said, and pointing to a staircase by her right, "That's where you'll do yours. You should find your object somewhere along the edge of the terrace."

Ahnnie nodded. "All right."

And so they went their separate ways. As Ahnnie climbed the tiled steps, her short sword clinking gently against her thigh (she decided to leave the glaive behind, as it could be mistaken for a staff in the distance), the thought of the whole affair being a sham briefly crossed her mind.

 _If it is, fine. But if it isn't...well, we'll see how it goes._

* * *

Blackwall followed the fragrance of delicately spiced Orlesian food to a small open air cafe, artfully canopied by the terrace above. He checked the paper Ahnnie had given him and nodded to himself when he realized this was it; this was the place marked in the lower level of the market. But where, exactly, was this mysterious 'red thing'?

" _Bonsoir_ _monsieur,_ and welcome to La Pâquerette! How many in your party?"

The Warden's dark head turned to regard the spindly little man before him, a cheery waiter with perfectly coiffed blonde hair. He realized then that he might have to accept some of the cafe's services if he wished to search for his object without suspicion. "Just me," he answered gruffly.

"Splendid! Follow me, _s'il vout plais_!"

Blackwall followed him to a lonely little table in the corner, searching the surroundings for a red object as he did so. He was disappointed to have seen none as he sat down on the dainty little chair. The waiter then plopped a menu before him, asking what he would like to have as a drink to start the meal. He also said something about the chef's special, but Blackwall cut in before he could go into detail.

"Just a glass of _vin rouge_ ," the Warden said. "I'm not hungry."

The waiter nodded bouyantly. "A gentleman of fine taste," he complimented. "Your Orlesian is excellent as well."

Blackwall granted him a small grin. "I did my fair share in the imperial army when I was younger," he explained.

"Ah! An imperial soldier! Then I salute you, _monsieur._ " The waiter gave him a mock salute that was much too flamboyant to really be called a salute before taking back the menu and finally leaving Blackwall alone.

 _The imperial army,_ Blackwall thought. _An interesting time, that._ The waiter returned to set a glass of red wine on the table, which Blackwall held to his lips for a contemplative sip; fruity, with some floral notes. _I wasn't at my best when I joined. But I did good. Up until..._

"...says the Warden has taken up with the Inquisition."

"And one walks among us. How exciting!"

Blackwall looked up from his glass and saw two masked ladies fanning themselves at a table not too far from his. One sat stiff and dignified; the other was giggly and coquettish. Upon seeing him look in their direction, the coquettish one bat her eyelashes demurely and hid her giggles not-so-completely with her elaborate fan.

"And alarming," the stiffer one put in, disapproving of her companion's flirty antics.

So as not to appear a rude gentleman, Blackwall nodded in a courtly manner back at them. It would show that he had heard their exchange but thought no ill of the stiffer one's disdain. This caused the coquettish one much delight, as her excited chittering denoted. As she leaned back in her seat to whisper something in the stiffer woman's ear, her foot made a delicate movement beneath the table's low hanging cloth. A wispy red handkerchief then floated out, having been kicked by her dainty shoe.

Blackwall perked up at the sight of it. A red handkerchief! Could it be one of the 'red things' specified in the piece of paper? But he couldn't just walk up to their table and take it from them. It might even belong to either lady – it might mean nothing, beyond being red.

He found the perfect excuse to confirm his suspicions as he left his seat to pick up the handkerchief and hold it before the ladies. Prior to that, he noticed what felt like a crinkly piece of parchment beneath the fabric but pretended not to notice, if in case it really was the personal property of one of these two madmoiselles. "Pardon me, but is this yours?" he asked in as suave a manner as he could muster.

The stiffer woman grew even stiffer at the sight of his approach. " _Non_ ," she answered sharply, "it is not mine."

The coquettish one smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth framed by freshly rouged lips. " _Non_ , it is not mine either, but you are kind to inquire about it."

"I just didn't want you to lose something you might miss," he demurred.

"And that is very gallant of you," the coquette complimented.

"Ah, well – I try."

"Your efforts are appreciated," the stiffer one put in, sending another disapproving look her companion's way. He then realized that she might be the coquette's older relative; with their masks on, it was difficult to tell their age by their faces. Some of that suspicion turned out to be true when the coquette reluctantly gave him one last teasing look before ending their exchange.

Blackwall returned to his seat to finish up the wine. With a careful gesture, he unfurled the red handkerchief that he kept balled in his fist, laying it on his lap so that no one else could see, and picked apart the crumpled parchment within. On it was written in a simple script:

 _Thank you Friends for helping good lady Keris. Saw those who asked about the Herald enter third passage. Could not stay to see them exit._

So, there _was_ something to this little intrigue after all. Blackwall balled the handkerchief and parchment into his fist again, shoving it quickly into a pocket before resuming his casual sipping of the red wine. When he finished, he left money on the table and bid the exuberant waiter adieu.

* * *

The terraces of the upper market offered a sweeping view of the Bazaar below, and at a certain angle, of the docks and the sea in the distance. The air was cooler here, and the night breeze, gentle. _Is this what visiting Europe would have felt like?_ Ahnnie wondered, noting how similar Val Royeaux seemed to the antiquated corners of famous European cities – at least, what she saw of them through pictures. Yet there was something of its own charm here, something distinctly Thedosian that was not to be found elsewhere on Earth. Perhaps an art critic could describe it better.

For now, she was having trouble finding her 'red thing'. She looked behind potted plants, between cracks in the walls, beneath benches and tables, but found nothing red...nothing red that stood out, anyway. A lot of the upholstery was a rich burgundy red, and a nearby shop displayed red dresses in its window, but she hardly thought they were the 'red things' indicated on the message. She looked at them anyway to see if they held any hidden clues, but found none that made sense to her.

She was only able to do this by maneuvering in ways so as not to be seen by people, for there were people here, and they were of the masked variety. If she remembered correctly, only those of noble birth and their servants could wear masks. Blatantly stooping down to check under benches or rifling through the trimmed leaves of a potted bush would not have gone unnoticed nor unpunished. She had already been drawing some attention with her masklessness – what would happen if they recognized her as the 'Herald of Andraste'?

So she did much of her searching whilst posturing, pretending to be taken in with a certain wall to run her fingers past its cracks, or impressed with the velvety softness of a particular bench, or appreciative of the scents of some flowers growing from the potted bushes. All this, while doing her best to distance herself from the Orlesians around her.

It took her quite a while as a result, and she quickly grew frustrated with the lack of success. By the time she reached the end of the upper market opposite from where she ascended, she had already noticed Blackwall waiting at the tower for some thirty minutes.

 _That's it,_ she thought, _I give up. It's nothing but a sham. I've searched high and low, I'm_ sure _I didn't miss anything, but nope, nothing. This was stupid._

Ahnnie huffed as she stormed her way towards the staircase. Never had she felt so humiliated – so used! She felt especially regretful for dragging Blackwall into the mess. _He must've found nothing and was wise enough to stop searching as soon as he knew,_ she thought. What a waste of both their time. Oh, well – at least Cassandra didn't get involved. That would have been even _more_ embarrassing.

But when she reached the landing, she noticed something from the corner of her eye by the nearest potted plant. It looked like a dark ball wedged between the pot and the wall. She backed up a few steps to make sure she wasn't seeing things, and sure enough, there was the dark little ball wedged in that spot. Its color was difficult to discern in the shadows between the wall and pot, but she ensured no one was around before bending down to retrieve it. It was the only out-of-place thing so far; she might as well check it out.

 _A sock?_ she thought as she felt the wooliness of the ball. She pulled until it came free, and went to the railing to observe it by lamplight. "It's red!" she exclaimed to herself. And as she unfurled it, it was indeed a sock. _But...that's it? Just a sock?_ She frowned, wondering who on earth would go through the effort of shooting a message to her while she was alone, at a precise time in the dark...just for her to find a sock.

Ahnnie held up the sock, examining its every fiber for some sort of clue. Then she reluctantly dug into it, trying not to think of the sweaty foot it once graced. To her surprise, her fingers touched paper. When she withdrew her hand, she found a piece of paper torn from the corner of what used to be an ornate document. Her eyes instantly jumped upon the words written on it – from two different hands, she noticed – but to her dismay, she found that they were in another language.

The runes were more or less the same than Common, but when she tried reading the first line, she received a nonsensical string of sounds: _ay noo devon bayeer bien..._

 _Is it Orlesian?_ she wondered, and wished she'd learnt the language before coming here.

Before she could give up, she came to the second set of writing and realized it was in Common, albeit mispelled: _Herold go at time. Praise Adrast._

Heart beating anxiously, she rushed down the stairs and headed straight for Blackwall. The bearded Warden was following her approach with his eyes, and he unfolded his arms when she came close.

"Did you find anything?" he asked her, noticing the sock in her hands.

Ahnnie held it out before him, then the torn paper. "I found these balled up beside a potted plant, and the paper was stuffed into the sock." When he took the paper, she rushed to inform him, "The writing at the top is in a different language, though."

Blackwall squinted at it, then read aloud, "... _and we are to obey well. We meet at ten bells to discuss how best to serve the new way._ "

Ahnnie blinked. "How did you...?"

"I know some Orlesian," he explained, and flipped the paper to look at the other side. When he found nothing, he handed it back to her. "It's cut off from a sentence, but I think its meaning is clear."

"Someone's meeting somewhere at ten?" Ahnnie guessed.

"Most likely. I found this by the cafe–" he held out his handkerchief, with its crumpled parchment "–and it seems to talk about a path to take. Now there's only the 'red thing' at the docks. After we find that, we'll try piecing the mystery together."

Blackwall found something, after all! Ahnnie felt relieved; _so this wasn't completely useless. Thank god!_

Emboldened by their discoveries, they headed for the docks, going down the same path they took to reach the Summer Bazaar earlier in the day. As the Bazaar faded from view, so did the gentlefolk along with it; less and less people were found hanging around these secluded areas, and the ones they did see looked like the rougher sort. Once they arrived at the docks, swearing could be openly heard, but of the people who swore, they were difficult to make out in the darkness. Only a few lights glowed against the gloom.

Ahnnie stepped closer to Blackwall. "We shouldn't stay here too long," she observed.

Blackwall grunted, but his attention was on the map of the folded paper. At any rate, he didn't look like someone who was easily spooked by places such as these. It took him a while to make it out in the darkness, but eventually he was able to see where the red mark on the paper equated to the docks around them. He turned back to look at their point of entry, then back again to get a lay of the land, and slowly stalked along the harbor to where he believed their last object lay. His careful gait reminded Ahnnie of their hunting trip in the woods; and in a way, they were hunting for something. Just a different sort of thing, and for a different sort of purpose.

Finally, he stopped by a pile of crates and nets. Ahnnie almost ran into him; her eyes had been fixated on a couple of burly silhouettes in the distance. She quickly apologized and asked him what was the matter.

"See if you can find anything in there," he instructed, pointing to the pile.

They both bent down and groped amongst the nets, peeking into crates and the spaces between them; Ahnnie fought the urge to shout 'Aha!' when she felt a soft piece of cloth. She drew it out and put it under the scant light to see its color. Red! Perfect! And it was tied around a rusty little key. She quickly relayed this to Blackwall and they withdrew as soon as they could from the docks. Just as well, for the silhouettes Ahnnie had seen walked by their previous spot not too long afterward.

When they were back within the Bazaar, Blackwall untied the cloth from the key. He shook it out to see if there were any hidden papers, but there were none. Then he examined it beneath a lamp post, and read these hastily scrawled words:

 _Key lifted from drunk swearing about Herald. Don't know what door. I'm out, my debt is paid._

The Warden nodded in satisfaction. "This is it," he declared. "We've found everything."

Ahnnie withdrew her torn paper and Blackwall, the crumpled parchment, and they set to discussing the three clues in hushed tones.

"So this one talks about a time, yours talks about a path, and this last one is a key to someplace," Ahnnie said, summing it up. "Are we missing anything? Do you think Lady Keris and the 'new way' tie into this somehow?"

Blackwall frowned. "I don't think they do, at least not immediately."

"Where do you think this 'third passage' is, then?"

"Hold a moment..." Blackwall looked up, then around the Bazaar. "Ah! That arch over there – _Etienne III_ – looks like our passage. The others are marked with names, but no numbers. If not, then my hands are tied. Maker knows how many paths and passages this city has."

Ahnnie looked, and found what Blackwall observed to be true. "All right, then! What do we do next?"

Just as she said so, the clock began to strike. _One...two...three..._

"Great Maker," Blackwall swore, "that's the ten bells ringing."

"What?" Ahnnie asked, bewildered. "Are you sure?"

 _Four...five...six..._

"Last I heard was nine. It's got to be it; there's no mistake."

"Then..."

 _Seven...eight...nine..._

Blackwall nodded at the arch bearing _Etienne III_ over it in gilded letters as the last, and tenth, bell rung. "Let's take a quick look. What could it hurt?"

* * *

The wrought iron gate swung cleanly on its hinges as Ahnnie pushed it open. With a nod to Blackwall, they quietly slipped through, and Ahnnie was thankful that the gate was both unlocked and freshly oiled.

The passage leading from the arch of _Etienne III_ had not been very long. It wasn't exactly a single passage, for it took them through a regular city street, but Blackwall figured that they only had to keep straight to find their place. If not, they would simply go back and forget about the whole business. Since they ended up finding it, though, they realized the path had led them into the secluded courtyard of a big manor house. Except for a few crates scattered here and there, it was completely empty. Directly ahead of them was a blue door set into the wall.

Ahnnie held up the key. "Think this is it?" she asked Blackwall, nodding at the door.

"We won't know until we try," he reminded her, and they both stepped cautiously up to the door.

Ahnnie inserted the key into the hole, twisting it gently for fear of making a noise. The courtyard seemed empty, but that emptiness worked in turn to unnerve her; what if the manor's occupants should be alerted to their presence? No, even worse – what if somebody lay in wait on the other side?

With a click, the door was unlocked. Holding in her breath, Ahnnie twisted the knob and pushed it open, hairs rising on the back of her neck as it gave a thin, whining creak. She waited until Blackwall was beside her before daring to take the first step...

 _Fwoom!_ A ball of fire the size of her fist suddenly rushed at her. She yelped and jumped back in the nick of time to avoid it, suffering only from lightly singed hair ends.

Blackwall's hand went to the hilt of his sword as he steadied the girl with his other hand. "You all right?" he asked.

Ahnnie looked down at the curling crisps of her singed hair. "I-I'm fine," she stammered, and pushed herself upright. She, too, made a grab for her short sword. _There_ _must be a mage; I've got to be care–_

"Herald of Andraste!" a heavily accented voice called out. Ahnnie looked up to find it coming from a nobly dressed Orlesian sauntering into her line of view, his golden mask gleaming from the light of the manor's windows. "How much effort did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!"

Ahnnie looked around the courtyard; there didn't seem to be other people. _So that fireball came from him? He doesn't look like a mage._ Then again, he could have been using an enchanted object. But even more baffling was his strange claim about them expending so much effort; beyond the effort used to find the objects and decipher their clues, that is. "What? We don't even know who you are!" she protested.

"You don't fool me!" he spat. "I'm too important for this to be an accident! My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!"

"No really, we–"

She was interrupted by a scream that sounded from around the corner, and both she, Blackwall, and even the noble turned their heads toward its source. There they found a blue liveried corpse being pushed to the ground as a young elven archer notched a new arrow to her bow and aimed it at the masked noble.

"Just say, 'what!'," the elven archer shouted.

Incensed, the Orlesian noble roared, "What is the–"

An arrow flew right into his face, silencing him with a piercing shot through the eye hole. It gave out a thick spurt of blood before the now deceased noble fell onto his back.

Ahnnie stared at the noble, her mouth agape. Then she stared at the archer, who was regarding his corpse with a look of disgust.

"Eeugh!" the archer gagged. "Squishy one, but you heard me, right? 'Just say, "what."' Rich tits always try for more than they deserve."

"R-rich ti..." Ahnnie dumbly echoed, wondering whether to be appalled by the archer's colorful vocabulary or the bloody man on the ground.

Blackwall furrowed his brows. "Who are you, and what's going on here?" he demanded.

But if the elven archer heard, she didn't show it. " _Blah, blah, blah!_ Obey me! Arrow in my face!" she taunted, her tone childish and mischievous. She went over to the corpse, plucked the bloody arrow from the noble's eye, and stuck it back into her quiver. She next sauntered over to Ahnnie, looking her up and down as though to appraise a piece of merchandise.

Ahnnie backed up a step, slightly unnerved.

"So," the archer began, tossing back a stray strand of her bobbed blonde hair, "you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're..." She made a disappointed face. "You're kind of plain, really. All that talk, and then you're just...a person. I mean, it's all good, innit?" she asked, perking up again. "The important thing is, you glow. You're the Herald–thingy."

Ahnnie gasped. "So you're the one who shot me that message!"

The archer chuckled. "Yeah. Frightened you, didn't I? ' _Yaaah_ '," she mock-screamed in a high falsetto note, imitated the way Ahnnie had jumped, and then chuckled again. "Hilarious."

Ahnnie cringed at the reenactment. _She's...certainly something..._

"Mind telling us what's going on?" Blackwall asked again, glowering pointedly at the eccentric elf.

She shrugged. "No idea. I don't know this idiot from manners." She nodded at the noble, then went on, "My people just said the Inquisition should look at him."

"Your people? Elves?" Blackwall asked.

"Ha! No. _People_ people."

"Who?" Ahnnie asked.

But the elf must have mistook her meaning, for she introduced herself whilst pointing at some nearby crates, "Name's Sera, this is cover. Get round it."

The Warden and the Herald exchanged confused glances with one another, wondering yet again what the elf meant.

"For the reinforcements," Sera clarified. "Don't worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed." Her eyebrows went up as her grin widened. "They've got no breeches!"

It wasn't until Sera pulled Ahnnie down behind a crate that she realized the elf was talking about oncoming guards. Blackwall knelt down with them as well, but only after hearing the pitter-patter of harried footsteps coming from the farther end of the courtyard.

"Shh," Sera hushed them with an index to her plump lips, though neither of them had made a sound. They waited in silence, listening to the footsteps grow louder. As soon as the first few guards could be heard exclaiming angrily at the sight of the dead noble, Sera notched an arrow to her bow and leapt up from her hiding spot. Ahnnie heard a _twang_ and then the arrow itself whistling through the air before connecting with its target, which went down in a heavy _thump_.

Blackwall rolled out of hiding a moment later to intercept a guard, and then Ahnnie followed suit with her short sword unsheathed. But the moment she laid eyes on the two guards rushing at them, her eyes widened in disbelief and a hearty laugh escaped her lips.

 _No breeches!_ The guards were wearing no breeches!

"Told you, didn't I?" Sera called out to her.

Ahnnie pursed her lips to stifle the laughter, but it came out anyway in bursting intervals. She knew she should be afraid, should be focused on keeping her short sword in front of her to do some damage to the incensed guardsmen, but every time she saw their bare legs pumping angrily in that funny run of theirs, clothed by nothing more than boxer briefs, she couldn't help but laugh again.

Blackwall slapped a guard's blade away and knocked him out with the pommel of his sword. "More coming!" he alerted them, and charged to meet another breechless guard.

Sera took care of two of them pretty quickly. "C'mon, Herald," she goaded Ahnnie. "Don't be a rich tit! Give us a hand!"

Ahnnie wiped the tears from her eyes. "O-okay," she wheezed, and cleared her throat before rushing out to aid Blackwall. The guard who had been a part of the first two jumped in her way, having tried to cut down Sera beforehand but was unable to out of fear for her arrows. Seeing an easy target in Ahnnie, he decided to divert his efforts there.

"Laugh again, you little tart!" the guard spat. "Come, I dare you!"

Ahnnie exchanged ringing blows with his sword, her face strained now with the effort of keeping in time with his every movement. Her swordplay had not much improved since the last lesson with Cassandra, but she had a fair grasp of how to move thanks to the practice fights between her and some recruits that the Seeker arranged, in which both sides held nothing back and fought honestly. Spying a little opening in the guard's stance, Ahnnie remembered a trick Cassandra taught her and used it to her advantage, locking the guard's blade into the corner between her blade and hilt, before twisting it away, leaving him defenseless.

 _Perfect,_ Ahnnie thought, glad to have the chance to end this fight – until she realized that meant killing him. Except for his legs, there was no other opening in his armor except for a sizable slit that revealed his neck. So she paused, her short sword raised, not knowing what to do.

"What're you waitin' for? Finish him!" Sera cried.

 _I can't!_ Ahnnie wanted to cry back, but no word made its way to her tongue. The guard, sensing his good luck, made a dive for his fallen sword. As he came up armed again, Ahnnie realized the danger she put herself through and swung her sword at him in a panic. She screamed in horror when the end of her blade sliced clean through his windpipe, blood gushing forth to splatter on her boots – either she had misjudged her aim, or the guard had moved his head up at the wrong time.

Blackwall dashed the blunt end of his blade against his guard's helmet, knocking the man out in a clash of vibrating metal. Another guard fell upon him, but he pushed the man away with some quick blows before rushing to Ahnnie as fast as he could. "What's wrong?" he asked when he realized she wasn't in danger. "Are you hurt?"

Ahnnie shook her head. Strangely, despite her initial horror, she felt...she felt nothing. With a dazed look at Blackwall, she asked, "Are there any more?"

"Just one–"

As if on cue, Sera shot him.

"Never mind. No more left. But not all of them are dead. We'll want to get out of here before they wake up." He grabbed hold of her arm and gestured for Sera to retreat. "Come on. Let's go."

The three of them slipped out of the blue door and then beyond the wrought iron gate into the shadows of the alleyway. When they were at a safe enough distance, ensconced behind the wall of a nearby building, they stopped to catch their breaths. Ahnnie in particular was doubled over, hands on her knees, staring in lamentation at her boots. _They're a mess! I have to wipe them before I get back to the inn._

Sera was the first to break the silence. "Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!" She laughed; a queer, rapidfire sound of mirth. "So, Herald of Andraste. You're a strange one. I'd like to join."

Ahnnie looked up. "What?"

"Y'know. Fight the baddies, restore 'order'...whatever it is you're doing."

"You haven't answered our questions yet," Blackwall pointed out. "Who exactly are you, and what've we been doing?"

Sera looked a little flustered. "All right, so there's a name...no, wait, two. It's...well, it's like this. I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me. Well, I'm one," she said, ticking down a finger, "so is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall...there were three in Starkhaven, brothers or something." She gave up soon after and lowered her hands back to her sides. "It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, 'friends', be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here, in your face, I'm Sera. 'The Friends of Red Jenny' are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows." She grinned.

"I'm Ahnnie," Ahnnie introduced herself, "and this is Blackwall." The Warden gave her a frown, as if he hadn't approved of letting his name be known, but she ignored it. "So...you're offering spies? Is that what Friends of Red Jenny is?"

Sera sighed, and put up her hands as if to frame a picture. "Okay, here's how it is. You 'important' people are up here, shoving your cods around. 'Blah, blah, I'll crush you. I'll crush _you_!" Then she puckered her lips and made little kissy sounds. "Oh, crush _you_..."

Ahnnie made a face. "Okay..."

"Ahem. Then you've got cloaks and spy-kings. Like that tit. Remember? Arrow-in-the-face? Or he was one of the little knives? All serious with his...little knife." She shook her head. "All those secrets, and what gave him up? Some houseboy who don't know shite, but knows a bad person when he sees one. So no, I'm not Knifey Shivdark, all hidden. But if you don't listen down here too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards. I stole their..." Her voice threatened to give way to giggling again, but she shook it away with a stern expression. "Look, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you?"

Ahnnie exchanged glances with Blackwall again. She was still very much confused even after the listening to Sera's lengthy explanation, but apparently the 'Friends of Red Jenny' were a Robin Hood-esque group that shared a tight network between a select few. Or so Sera said. Whatever the case, Ahnnie knew she couldn't trust the elf blindly. They'd just met, and in the strangest of circumstances.

At last, she gave her answer. "Well, Sera..."

* * *

Blackwall and Ahnnie walked beneath the lamplight on their way back to _L'auberge de Licorne_ , their weapons newly cleaned and Ahnnie's boots freshly wiped thanks to the red handkerchief Blackwall still kept in his pocket. They had been mostly quiet, not speaking more than a few words to ask how the other was doing. They were both tired from the unexpected fight and the ship journey – was that just this morning? It felt like a decade ago! – and Ahnnie was trying to discern why she felt so normal.

Hadn't she just killed another person? Or at least, seriously injured him? But she had no doubt that he was dead by now. She'd sliced through his neck, and he'd lost so much blood...it'd be a miracle if he still lived.

And yet, somehow, she wasn't frantic over it. Not like she had been with the archer in the Crossroads.

"Not used to killing?" Blackwall asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Ahnnie perked her head up. "Not really...I think. How'd you know I was thinking of that?"

"You've got that look in your eye. I've seen it in recruits before." The Warden crossed his arms. "Was that guard your first?"

She shook her head. "No. My first was an archer in the Hinterlands. I, uh...hurt him pretty badly." She was reluctant to let him know of the more violent truth behind that story. "I'm just confused right now," she explained. "Either it's because of how extreme the first one was, or if it's because the guard had a helmet on to cover his face, but...I didn't feel much of anything with the, uh, second one. And I'm wondering if that's wrong."

Blackwall sighed. "That's nothing strange. But think of it this way: if you didn't killed him, he would've killed you. Both the archer and the guard; they wouldn't have stopped to spare your life. You had no choice."

Ahnnie frowned. "But...but you didn't kill all the guards you fought. You knocked most of them out. I..."

"You're not strong enough to make a blow that hard with your sword," he explained. "Not yet, anyway. And yes, I admit, I'd prefer not to kill unless it's necessary. But remember that word: necessary. Sometimes it just is. Not wrong, or right...just necessary."

She mustered up a small smile. "I guess you have a point...it's just that I used to think of it as something completely wrong. I never thought about killing in self-defense, though. It was only in terms of murdering. Society where I come from is heavily regulated and _really_ looks down on that sort of thing." She knew for certain that what she'd done here in Thedas would have landed her in jail back in America.

"It'll ruin you, but only if you let it," Blackwall then said.

Ahnnie would have responded, except that they had arrived at the inn by that time. They were just in time, for the innkeeper's wife had been ready to lock the doors. When Ahnnie returned to the room she shared with Josephine and Cassandra, though, it was to find the Seeker in a displeased mood.

"Where have you been?" Cassandra reproached her, arms crossed against her chest. Josephine was already asleep in one of the twin beds, dark hair splayed against her pillow.

Ahnnie blushed. "Oh, I was out with Blackwall, because..." She proceeded to tell Cassandra of the night's events, from the arrow-borne message to the little scavenger hunt, and then the scene at the secluded courtyard leading up to Sera's acquaintance and request to join the Inquisition.

"And you just accepted?" Cassandra asked flatly. "Without knowing who she was? She could have been lying to you."

"Well..." Ahnnie shrugged. "She was being persistent, and if what she said was true, she could give us some insight on what's going on at the bottom of the social hierarchy." At least, that's what Ahnnie believed she meant by the ones 'down here'. "And maybe Leliana knows more about the Friends of Red Jenny, so that's why I thought it wouldn't be a problem. Besides, Sera can't do anything to me here or on the way back to Haven; we have our soldiers, right?"

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the girl before shaking her head. "You have brought up good points, and if this 'Sera' is as determined as she seems, then she can meet with Leliana and make better her offers there. Next time, however, I would advise you not to be so careless. It is late now; go to sleep."

Ahnnie nodded and went to her side of the bed to get undressed. She slipped herself into a simple nightshirt and crawled into bed just at the moment Cassandra blew out the candle. With a yawn, the girl gave into her fatigue and fell asleep.

Val Royeaux – what a city! And what would come next?


	17. Chapter 15

The Revered Mothers Hevara, Alethea, and Bernette arranged themselves primly around the low stone table. They sat together at one edge of the circle, three red-robed fingers crowning a spherical palm; opposite them sat the golden-ruffled figure of the former Antivan ambassador, Lady Josephine Montilyet, and the fresh-faced heretic known as the Herald of Andraste, whose name they loathed to pronounce.

Mother Hevara was seated in between her fellow sisters, flanked by the stout Mother Bernette on her left and the high-strung Mother Alethea on her right. Both parties sat silent in the spacious council room even as a fragrant tea was served for their refreshment, and after the first few sips had taken place.

"Revered Chantry Mothers, we are honored for this chance to sit before you today," Lady Josephine began, her smooth voice rolling along the flowery nuances of her accent. "Truly, it is a blessing to be in your presence. We are most pleased that you have agreed to our request of an audience." She spoke as though this was a meeting between numerous dignitaries. In truth, there should have been more Mothers present, but as Mother Hevara had said on that cursed day, most of the clerics were scattered in their opinions. It was a miracle that Alethea and Bernette agreed to come at all.

Beside the ambassador, the young heretic smiled, almond eyes glittering deceptively in the sunlight streaming through the windows. As if in mockery of the Mothers, some of that light touched her cheek, setting her sickly colored skin aglow.

It was not natural, that pale golden tone. As far as Mother Hevara knew, it occurred not at all in any of the inhabitants of Thedas, not unless the fairer ones were ill; but even then it wouldn't be that exact shade. That should have been enough to signal to most others that this was no regular resident of Thedas. And when she claimed to be touched by Andraste, it should have made her even more suspicious as an obvious ploy to bewitch those who laid eyes on her, to stir their greed of gold and have them believe it a symbol of Andraste's choice, though she herself was not remarkably beautiful. But Mother Hevara did not blame the ones who accepted or tolerated her; it was not Thedosian custom to discriminate based on skin color. The races themselves were already divided enough; why exacerbate the problem with standards of skin pigmentation? A human was a human, a Qunari a Qunari, an elf an elf, _etcetera, etcetera_ , regardless of their hues.

"We are understanding of your desire to make amends with the Chantry," said Mother Hevara, choosing her words carefully. "I only regret that it was not possible upon our first meeting."

Josephine smiled sympathetically. "Of course, it was not an amenable day for negotiations. Even if we could, we would not have pushed them upon you in good conscience. But those obstacles are no longer present; we hope to reach a satisfactory agreement as a result of today."

Next to Josephine, the heretic stirred. "Are you feeling better, Mother Hevara?" she asked, her tone innocent. "You fell rather hard that day. I was afraid you had injured yourself badly."

Alethea and Bernette sent brief glances at Mother Hevara from the corners of their eyes. The Mother herself resumed her placid expression, although a flash of pain from the memory of the punch flared briefly at the back of her head and her side. "I am well, thank you," she answered formally. That was as much warmth as she was willing to give the heretic; it displeased her not a little that the catastrophic events of their first encounter were brought up at all. _So_ _Lady Montilyet has shown her how to polish her tongue,_ Mother Hevara thought, noticing the new smoothness and timing to the Herald's words; they had been choppy and informal several days ago.

"That is good to hear. I only hope we have not come at an improper time," Josephine then said, looking round at the empty chairs. "I take it that most of the Mothers are occupied by more pressing matters? Should we return at later date?"

"'They will see what can be gained, and though we are few against the wind, we are yours'," intoned Mother Bernette. "Trials five, verse one." The stout little woman cleared her throat and smiled pleasantly at Josephine. "I fear we miss an opportunity if we postpone this meeting further to wait for our fellow sisters. All of us here at the Chantry have been frightfully busy on account of the next Divine Election; you _are_ aware of how suddenly it is being thrust upon us."

"Of course," the ambassador nodded. But crafty little thing she was, she knew the truth. Mother Hevara could feel it.

"We shall, of course, pass this on to our fellow sisters," Alethea chimed in. "Not much is left unknown between us; as servants of the Maker and reciters of the Chant of Light, we seldom keep each other in the dark about such matters."

That, too, was a falsehood one such as Lady Josephine could easily see through. But it was the custom of statescraft to make such statements, was it not? "Well, then, I believe we can move forward without hesitance."

At this, the false Herald straightened in her seat. She held her head up to gaze directly into the Revered Mothers' eyes and said, "I want to make my position clear to the Chantry. I know you believe I killed the Divine and plan to usurp the Chantry, as well as other things. I know _why_ you think that, but I want to tell you today that none of it is true."

"We have only your words to stand for it, whereas we have seen what seems to be clear evidence," Mother Alethea put in. "Divine Justinia's death stands foremost in this pile of debris; how is it that you survived the explosion at the Conclave, while every other attendee perished? And what was our Most Holy being held in sacrifice for, if not so you could cross over into our world?"

"Let us not forget, the youngest Trevelyan fell victim to this sacrifice as well," added Mother Bernette.

The young heretic seemed unsurprised to hear the accusations. Whether it was because Lady Josephine schooled her well, or she was used to them by now, she answered them in an even and practiced manner. "I've heard these things before," she said. "They were the exact same things brought against me when I woke up in Haven. Unfortunately, I can't tell you anything now beyond what I've said then: I did not kill the Divine or Bann Trevelyan's son. In fact, I was in danger in my world right before I crossed into this one, from a rift that opened in my backyard. If I survived the explosion, it's most likely because I was not there in the first place. Chosen or not, no one could survive a blast that huge. Don't you agree?"

Mother Hevara waved the matter away with a dismissive hand. "Indeed, that is a given; but you forget that if it was a ritual aimed to summon you, then of course you would be unharmed."

"If I was summoned, then I didn't know it," the heretic answered frankly. She sighed. "If I could have done something to stop the explosion, to keep all those people from dying, then I would have done it. If there's a chance to do so now, I would trade everything I have to do it. You may not believe me, but I am disturbed by all this just as much as you are. Yes, I have nothing but words to defend me, but I cannot answer you otherwise, because to do so would be to lie."

"Very well. Assuming that is true – why does the Inquisition make a stand as its own entity? Divine Justinia wished to reinstate it only if the Conclave failed. However, the Conclave was destroyed before we could even know what became of it. Explain to me why this must be so." Mother Hevara sat back as she finished, challenging the heretic with a level gaze.

The heretic stared at her awhile, as if considering what to say, before answering, "The Inquisition exists because we want to help."

Mother Alethea and Mother Bernette leaned forward in their seats, as if they hadn't heard her correctly. "To _help_?" Mother Alethea echoed incredulously.

"The templars have gone rogue, the mages continue to rebel, and the explosion took away all of your higher-ranked clerics; I know it would be the first instinct of the Chantry to try and restore order, but you must agree that you cannot do it on your own." Her brown eyes slanted in sympathy. "To take on so many duties at once, and to be able to open your hearts in such troubling times...that's admirable."

Mother Hevara noticed the confused glances of her sisters, but did not deign to return them. _This is new,_ she thought, considering the Inquisition's hostile stance that Chancellor Roderick initially reported to them. _But of course, it is of the sly ambassador's doing,_ she next thought as she watched the Antivan woman's carefully composed expression. There was no way this bumbling child could have thought of that all on her own.

"Now I know why Mother Giselle made me feel so warm when I spoke to her," the false Herald was saying, and Mother Hevara's attention returned to her. "And why she was doing all she could for the refugees at the Crossroads. Can you blame us for wanting to help as well? Many people in Thedas have charitable hearts, and that includes the Inquisition. I know, it seems presumptuous of us to take the late Divine Justinia's writ into our own hands – but as the Chantry has proved, good work can be done better when in greater numbers. And what the Chantry needs right now is not another child to care for, but an ally to stand at its side."

The Chantry, allied to the Inquisition? Preposterous! Mother Alethea and Mother Bernette were fast losing the battle of holding in their protestations, and Mother Hevara felt the heat rise in her chest as well at the notion of this...this scandalous idea! But she knew they must rein in their emotions. So she said, "Should that be true, we would gladly welcome the chance to let fellow Thedosians do good in the name of The Maker...however, we cannot rightly align ourselves with someone claiming to be, quite literally, _touched_ by Andraste. It would be absolute heresy."

"I don't claim that privilege, as I have told you," the heretic argued. "I could care less about it. The only thing that matters is that I was touched by this" – she held up her left hand – "and it is the only thing so far that can stop the rifts and the Breach. So you can rest assured that I have no ideas about claiming divinity or whatever it is you hear people saying about me." Putting her hand down, a flash of concern rippled through her features. "Speaking of what people say...I was very concerned when I heard that the Chantry was thinking of hiring mercenaries to guard the Cathedral. Isn't that right, Josephine?"

For the first time since the false Herald began speaking, the Inquisition's ambassador made her opinions known. "It is a very worrying prospect, indeed. It reminds us all of how selfish Lord Seeker Lucius was to withdraw his support, leaving you all to not only worry about the state of the world, but of your own safety as well."

So they heard that little piece of news. Wonderful. Mother Hevara sighed, realizing now how prophetic her words had been. _It is out of our hands now...We shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come._ "And what is it that you are suggesting?" she asked at last, not knowing whether to be interested or affronted. Meanwhile, their tea sat before them, cold.

"We have brought with us a small troop of soldiers," Lady Josephine replied. "It was not our first intention, but if the Chantry would give us the honor, then we would be more than happy to leave them behind, and they, of course, even happier to serve."

"And once we send word to our Commander, a proper regiment can be sent over," the heretic added, eyes shining optimistically. If one was not careful, one could even say they were filled with goodwill.

"We ask for nothing in return; we only wish to rest assured in the safety of the Chantry."

"Don't you agree, Revered Mothers?" Brown, hopeful eyes assailed the three of them, as inquisitive and guiltless as a young child in spring.

 _It is out of our hands now; we shall all see what the Maker plans in the days to come–_

So Mother Hevara thought.

* * *

"Perfect!" Josephine cheered once they were in the privacy of their coach. "You have done well today, Lady Ahnnie!"

Ahnnie blushed, starting a bit when the coach jolted to life, but then relaxed serenly into its comfy upholstery a moment later. "I couldn't have done it without you, Josephine. And wow! The difference that it made, when you thought of all those things to say–" Things that were, refreshingly enough, also aligned with her thoughts.

"What did I tell you?" Josephine asked, a mischeivous twinkle in her eye. "Lady Cassandra is a stalwart protector, but when it comes to the nuances of diplomacy..."

"...you are better suited for giving me advice," Ahnnie finished, smiling widely.

The gold-ruffled ambassador laughed, a pleasant tinkling like a merry bell's.

Her mirth was contagious, and Ahnnie felt her own optimism swell. She did not expect this audience with the Chantry Mothers – not so soon, anyway – but Josephine leaped at the chance when the mercenary rumor started circling about the city. A rumor that reached their ears thanks, perhaps, to a certain Friend of Red Jenny they had made on the first night of their arrival..."But do you think the Chantry will accept our soldiers?" she asked.

"Even if they do not, we have made quite the impression on them," Josephine mused. "But I think that they will. Mercenaries, depending on one's haggling skills, can be notorious purse-bleeders. And what would it signal to everyone else in the world, but that the capital of the Chantry is desperate? No, they will accept...you will see."

The coach took some time to fully ride out of the wide Cathedral courtyard, and even longer after that to find its way onto the main road, but once the course was set the city whizzed past them in a luxurious, colorful blur. In around a quarter to the next hour, they were deposited on the doorstep of the plain but sprightly _L'auberge de Licorne._ Ahnnie opened the door to her side, slipping out, and Josephine did likewise. The ambassador only stopped to pay the driver before following the girl up to the inn's door.

When they came inside, they found the innkeeper's wife bestowing chirping flattery upon a smartly dressed man, who was enduring her compliments with admirable patience. He wore an intricate mask made of slightly cheaper material, denoting his position as a servant to nobility, and his livery uniform was crisp and handsome. At the sight of the two young women, he stirred in their direction, and when he turned his head to fully reveal his mask's patterns, Josephine's eyes widened a moment in awe.

"What is it?" Ahnnie asked.

But the ambassador was not able to answer her question in time. The man strode forward, cleared his throat, and promptly addressed her: "You are the Herald of Andraste, are you not?"

Ahnnie watched him curiously. "People call me that, yes."

"I have an invitation for you from the First Enchanter of Montsimmard, also Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais, the Madame Vivienne. She wishes you to attend her salon at the chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain, and to consider her humble offer of hospitality. Should you accept, I have orders to pay the remaining balance of your stay at this esteemed inn and arrange the delivery of your belongings, along with that of your retinue, to the chateau."

Ahnnie blinked, overwhelmed by the suddenness of the grand invitations; also, she was not versed enough in the Orlesian court to understand their true significance. But Josephine was.

"If it is not too much trouble, we would be honored to accept," the ambassador replied smoothly, the satisfaction showing in her voice.

Ahnnie looked confusedly at Josephine, but neither ambassador nor well-dressed servant seemed to notice her. "Very well," the man said, his lower face alight with a smile. "I shall get to it straight away."

When he returned to the innkeeper's wife, this time willingly engaging in business arrangements, her portly husband became interested as well and ambled over to take part in the proceedings. Both proprietors of _L'auberge de Licorne_ readily accepted the messenger's offer, faces shining in delight at the amount he proposed to pay. While they were thus occupied, Ahnnie turned to Josephine again, eager for an explanation.

The ambassador beamed at her, clearly on cloud nine. "This day could not have gotten any better, for we have caught the attention of Madame Vivienne – Court Enchanter to the _Empress_ of Orlais!"

* * *

The next few moments went by in a dizzying blur. Bags were packed, rooms turned out, scoured, checked, double-checked, and their former inhabitants ushered into the lobby or immediate area around the inn to await carriages to take them to the Chateau de Ghislain. Cassandra was displeased with the unexpected nature of the arrangements, but trusted Josephine's judgement in accepting the invitation nonetheless.

Ahnnie stood by Blackwall and Solas as these developments unfolded around them. They were crammed amongst their bags and soldiers, although Solas was lucky enough to claim a chair for himself.

"How the tides of fortune have turned," Solas remarked as he looked about the room.

Blackwall grunted, seemingly indifferent to the whole affair.

Ahnnie herself confessed a certain excitement upon learning the importance of their new host. "She's a mage, too," she said, looking at Solas. "What do you think about that?"

He gave her a curious look. "Am I supposed to feel pleased?"

She shrugged, saying nothing but returning his look with an equal one of her own.

"We shall see," Solas then chuckled, patting her on the arm.

The carriages arrived a while later, pulling up against the curb in front of the inn. To anyone watching, they were a stark contrast between the building they parked next to, gilded wealth beside homely quaintness. Ahnnie was certainly aware of the attention factor it gained in these parts, and felt embarrassed as she put her foot on the step to embark on the first of its brethren with her companions – but then her back prickled with that familiar sensation, and she whirled around on instinct to see what it was. It frustrated her more than a little that she saw nothing or no one in particular, yet felt as though someone was looking back at her. Drooping, sullen eyes were foremost in her mind, yet she could think of no reason why they should be so prominent.

With a shrug, she pulled herself into the carriage and chose the seat farthest from the door. Why think of fleeting shadows when there was something much more important to look forward to?

The drive to the Chateau de Ghislain took even longer than the one to the Grand Cathedral. If Ahnnie paid attention, she would have noticed that they were heading to the far north of the city. Of the five of them, only she and Josephine seemed the most excited about their new lodgings. Cassandra and Blackwall were nonchalant, while Solas's expression was cryptic, as always. As a result, their conversations were scattered and few, though they were quite interesting at times.

"I've wondered...how did you know to approach us, Solas?" Cassandra asked all of a sudden, drawing curious glances from the others in the carriage, Ahnnie especially. "The Breach opened, we were scrambling and barely had time to think... and there you were."

"I went to see the Breach for myself," Solas explained. "I did not know you would be there."

"You must not have been far away."

"I was not. I'd come to hear of the Conclave, but did not want to get close."

"Hmm." She sank back into her seat, her face thoughtful. "Lucky for us, then." Ahnnie couldn't tell whether that was sarcasm, teasing, or actual thought.

And then, at other times, Ahnnie noticed discreet looks passed between Blackwall and Josephine – fleeting glances and flitting smiles that even they themselves probably weren't aware of. Most of it was initiated by Blackwall, who she caught staring at Josephine several times, particularly when the carriage turned to let sunlight fall upon the ambassador, crowning her dark curls in a soft halo and setting her smooth bronze skin aglow.

It made Ahnnie grin, though of course she assumed nothing...yet.

Once they reached the Chateau, they were cordially welcomed by waiting servants and escorted through the lavish halls to their rooms. Josephine walked with Ahnnie, content to be shown to her room later. The others went their own ways, and Ahnnie wondered what the servants thought about Solas being in their party. Some of them, she had noticed, were elves as well. They would not look her straight in the eye, though she gave them friendly smiles, but perhaps they might feel more comfortable with Solas?

"And here is your room, my lady."

Her attention returned to the servant and the large door they stopped in front of. The servant pushed it open to reveal a spacious bedchamber, elegantly furnished. Each piece of furniture was art, and each piece of art, a fashion statement. If Ahnnie was not careful, she could almost fool herself into believing this was the bedroom of Queen Marie Antoinette. The large canopied bed in the center caught most of her attention, as did the rich, velvety carpet spread across the smooth marble floor. Once they were within the room, Josephine let out a tiny squeal of delight and flopped backwards onto the bed, sinking into its luxurious softness.

"I am not dreaming," the Inquisition ambassador giggled. "It is a bed – a real, feather bed!"

Ahnnie raised an eyebrow in amusement and went up to the bed, depositing her bag at its foot. She had insisted on carrying her luggage with her, since it was not cumbersome. "You sound as though you were forced to sleep on the floor or something."

Josephine sighed in content, and raised herself into a sitting position. "I do not mean to sound ungrateful, but it has been a dreadfully long time since I've seen something so comfortable."

"How do you manage at Haven, then?" Ahnnie laughed, settling herself onto the opposite edge of the bed. _She's right – it_ is _comfy._

Josephine shrugged. "One adjusts. I stay busy. It helps me to take my mind from our surroundings. And the cold. And the wildlife. And the lack of civilization for miles around..." She sighed. "Why anyone lived there before we found Andraste's ashes, I cannot imagine."

 _My only complaint? The lack of indoor plumbing._ It was discomfiting at first, learning how to live in a world without modernity, but she soon discovered that the trouble to trump all troubles was the complete lack of flush-able toilets. She could sleep in a cold room, provided there were enough blankets; she could camp out, wear a pair of clothes twice, even go a day or two without some form of bathing (although two days were her limit); but to degrade herself by squatting over the ground or a chamber pot and praying she didn't miss? She could do without that. And then she spotted a little brass pot sitting like a dainty toad in the corner of the room. _Ugh...I spoke too soon..._

Josephine got up from the bed and went over to the curtained windows. Gripping the elegant fabric carefully in her hands, she pushed them aside and let in a great stream of light. Ahnnie gasped in awe as an intricate set of gardens opened up through the glass, sprawling and green and carefully trimmed to create stimulating geometric shapes, encircling a pretty stone fountain. She was suddenly struck with the urge to walk along its white gravel path and to try out one of the mazes.

"Much better," Josephine remarked. "Now, let us see what clothes you have. You will want to look presentable for the salon."

Ahnnie grabbed her bag and opened it, depositing the garments on the bed beside her. "Are you sure I can go wearing my usual stuff? It might be too informal...Oh, I also have clothes I haven't laundered yet," she remarked, looking at the crumpled clothing at the bottom, separated from the clean ones by a single rag.

"I can take care of that for you, my lady," the servant offered, and Ahnnie then realized she hadn't yet left her spot in the doorway.

"Oh, thank you," she said, and got up to hand over the dirty clothes.

"Would you like a hot bath drawn for you?" the servant then asked.

Josephine perked up at this. "Yes, she would like one straight away," she answered for Ahnnie, so eager it was almost as if the bath was being drawn for her instead.

As much as Ahnnie did not want to seem like a rich lady ordering around a servant, she had to agree that a hot bath would be nice. In fact, she couldn't remember a time when she had a hot bath in Thedas; Haven was too frigid for any bath at all, forcing her to use the wet-and-wipe-down method, and the lakes of the Hinterlands were cold to the touch. A hot bath seemed like a long-forgotten fantasy.

 _I think I'm going to like it here,_ she thought.

* * *

"Lady Yiemen of America, representing the Inquisition."

Ahnnie paused in the doorway, listening with incredulity to her announced title, before continuing on her way into the gilt vestibule. She did her best to stifle a laugh and pretended to look about her with interest, gazing appreciatively at the fancy marble work and a tinkling fountain running along the sides of the double stairs leading to the second tier.

All around her a loose scattering of nobles gossiped over wine cups and hors d'oeuvres, doll-like in their masks and dress. Orlesian fashion seemed to her a curious mix of French renaissance and revolutionary styles, with their own unique influence such as the elongated bodice on the dresses and the peculiar off-shoulder coats that some men wore. In contrast, she herself was wearing a regular tunic and breeches, but with some added flair that Lady Josephine took the liberty of arranging.

A dark half-cloak was clasped around her neck and swept dramatically over a shoulder. Using the longest tunic in her possession, Josephine flared its sleeves and belted it directly at the waist to emphasize her figure, and then tucked the breeches as far as she could into freshly polished boots to produce the least amount of folds. Last but not least, the ambassador braided the full length of her black hair as soon as it was dried, loosening it a bit near the top before tossing it carelessly over a shoulder.

"The noble adventurer," Josephine had called the look when she stepped back to admire her handiwork. The glaive-guisarme was strapped to her back as a finishing touch, little more than an overly sized trinket to show off at the salon since no fighting would be expected (or allowed, for that matter). Besides, it was Orlesian in concept, which Josephine was sure would please more than a few guests.

Thus it came as no surprise to Ahnnie that she stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the Orlesian nobility. The announcer didn't even need to call out her peculiar epithet. If no one noticed her upon stepping in, they would be sure to notice her after a while of standing in the middle of the vestibule.

A servant glided by, bearing a tray of the little hor d'oeuvres. He stopped inquisitively at her side, confusing her at first, until she finally understood and chanced a small helping, plopping the treat into her mouth. A buttery pastry crust exploded on her tongue, spilling out the deliciously sweet and savoury filling within. Another servant followed suit, offering her a glass of an effervescent drink, but she declined; she did not wish to get drunk in this setting.

When the servant was gone, two nobles approached and greeted her cordially. "What a pleasure to meet you, my lady," the first of them, a nobleman, said. "Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome."

Ahnnie tried not to let the surprise at their friendliness show on her face. She had been so used to hostile receptions from the Orlesians, that she half-expected them to insult her. "Likewise," she returned with a small bow of her head, as Josephine taught. "May I have the honor of knowing whose esteemed company I am in?"

The nobleman smiled, clearly pleased by her manners. "Comte and Comtesse Antoine and Sabine de Sauvageau. And you must be Yiemen de America? Did I pronounce it correctly?"

His accent on her name and the word 'America' was comical. She held in her breath, not daring to show any mirth, not even a smile. "Yes," she replied a moment later, still keeping some of the breath down in her throat. Much to her misfortune, her nickname would not be appropriate here.

Comte Antoine nodded pleasantly. "So, you must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?"

"Are you here on business?" Comtesse Sabine added, her airy voice light and curious. "I have heard the most curious tales of you; I cannot imagine half of them are true."

Ahnnie smiled at them. "I can't imagine it either, since most of them are exaggerations. And I gue – _ahem_ – suppose that I'm here on business, of a sort. But, if I may ask...who is Madame de Fer? I only know that I was invited here by a Madame Vivienne."

"'Madame de Fer' is a...fond nickname the court has given Madame Vivienne," Antoine explained.

"I've heard she finds it amusing," Sabine remarked.

 _Madame de Fer...what does it mean?_ Ahnnie was tempted to ask, but wasn't sure it would be a Game-savvy move to do so. Instead, she nodded along to what they told her, as though she understood. "What of Duke Bastien? I've heard very little of him, to be honest, and this is his home."

"He hasn't been seen much at court lately," Sabine admitted.

"His business with the Council of Heralds often takes him from home for long periods," Antoine added. "It can't be good for a man of his years."

"And of course, there's the civil war. Bastien probably wishes to distance himself from the actions of his one-time son-in-law."

Ahnnie had heard a little bit about the civil war from Josephine. Something about a conflict between Empress Celene and a Grand Duke Gaspard for power. She only hoped her scant knowledge was enough to converse with the de Sauvageau's, and anyone else who might come.

"Tearing up the Dales in a foolish bid for power? It will end in disgrace for Gaspard. Everyone knows it." Comte Antoine was on the royalist side, then.

Sabine nodded in assent, but was quick to change the subject. "Let us not think of the civil war now. Tell us more about yourself, oh, and your stories – surely you must have several of your own?"

"A few memories made with the glaive, perhaps," Antoine suggested, nodding appreciatively at the weapon.

"You'd be disappointed," Ahnnie demurred with a light chuckle. "They're not as interesting as the ones you've heard. Some of those storytellers _might_ have gotten a little carried away."

"But only for the best effect," Sabine pointed out. "After all, your world and the Inquisition are ripe subjects for wild tales."

 _Ah...so I'll have to do some world-talk today._ She could already foresee a sore jaw awaiting her at the end of the evening. _Nobles and their curiosity,_ she inwardly sighed, but to the Comte and Comtesse she presented an amiable expression. "Well, to start off, I–"

"The Inquisition! What a load of pig shit."

The contemptuous remark emanated from a man in a feathered mask descending the stairs behind them. "Washed-up sisters and crazed Seekers?" he spat as he came off the last step. "No one can take them seriously." He glided arrogantly past Ahnnie to pace about the room, raising the volume of his voice to ensure he was heard by all within earshot. "Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of _political outcasts_ to grab power."

Great. Her first public challenge while alone. _Stay calm_ , she told herself. _You can do this._ Since it was a jab about the Inquisition being power hungry, a familiar one she'd dealt with just that morning, Ahnnie returned as evenly as she could, "The Inquisition is only working to restore peace."

"Here comes the Otherworlder," Feather Mask taunted, "restoring peace with an army!"

"Our aim is defense, not invasion," Ahnnie continued, recalling Blackwall's words to her and adjusting them to fit the occasion.

Feather Mask smirked at her response and walked up to her, coming in so close he was suddenly breaching her personal space. She fought the urge to back up and looked confusedly into his mask, as if to question his intentions. The difference in their height was a palpable disparity. As she craned back her neck to look up at him, she could see faint stubble peppering the length of his jaw, and from behind his head, the gleam of an intricate rapier handle resting at his back.

"We know what your 'Inquisition' truly is," he murmured personally to her. Then, speaking louder, " _If_ you were a woman of honor, you'd step outside and answer the charges."

She was clueless as to what he meant until he made a backward reach for his rapier's hilt. _A duel!_ Godammit, he was challenging her to a duel! Josephine never told her anything about fighting duels!

Just as Feather Mask's rapier was beginning to leave its scabbard, a flash of white light suddenly paralyzed him, trapping his arm in a brace of ice around his neck. He gasped and sputtered in shock, the ice creeping up as far as his bottom lip.

A rich, chocolatey voice admonished him from above. "My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house...to _my_ guests."

Everyone turned at the sound of the voice. A cloth of silver queen appeared, crowned by a bold headdress that twined above her head in two twirling points. She sashayed down the steps, her costume glittering in the light like fresh winter's ice. "You know such rudeness is...intolerable," she purred, her tone displeased. And yet it carried a certain satisfaction, like a predator toying with its catch.

"Ah, Madame Vivienne," the Marquis shuddered, "I humbly beg your pardon!"

"You should," she agreed. She finally came round to him and peered at his face through her silver mask. "Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?" the Madame sighed, and turned to face Ahnnie. "My lady, you're the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?"

Ahnnie regarded the regal figure before her. Surprisingly enough, Madame Vivienne's accent was not Orlesian. It was more Fereldan-like, but on the cultured and delicate side, like Evelyn's. On an unrelated note, her headdress reminded Ahnnie of a silvery Maleficent. Then she looked at the frozen Marquis, and immediately balked at the idea of deciding his fate. "It's all right," she assured the Madame. "It was just a few harsh words. Please, let him go."

Madame Vivienne nodded and turned back to her prisoner. But she did not release him immediately, taking the time instead to cup his frozen cheek. "Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog-lord..." Then the ice disappeared with a snap of her fingers. The Marquis' arm dropped back to his side, and he lifted it back up only to cover his mouth as he coughed.

But she was not done with him. Though he no longer was locked in her magic's embrace, Madame Vivienne continued to attack him with the other weapons in her arsenal. "And all dressed up in your aunt Solange's doublet. Didn't she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning...and you're still here. Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think her blade could put an end to the misery of your failure?"

The Marquis looked down, cowed. Sensing that his presence was no longer welcome at the salon, he wordlessly headed for the door, taking his rapier and tattered dignity with him.

"Run along, my dear," Madame Vivienne mocked with a little shooing gesture at his back. "Do give my regards to your aunt."

Ahnnie suddenly found herself feeling sorry for the Marquis. Looking at the nobles around her, though, she could see they didn't feel the same. At first glance, they appeared to have no reaction, but if she listened closely she could hear amused murmurs and a derisive chuckle here and there. An uncomfortable feeling swirled in her belly as she took this all in. _The Grand Game is brutal,_ she thought in distaste.

"I'm delighted you could attend this little gathering," Madame Vivienne said once the Marquis was gone, drawing Ahnnie's attention back on her. "I've _so_ wanted to meet you. Come," she gestured, drawing the girl aside.

* * *

They stood by an open window in a lonely corner of the vestibule, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in from outside. It opened out to the same gardens Ahnnie had seen from the window in her room, just at a different angle. She breathed in the cool night air, letting it fill her lungs with the fresh scent of the gardens. It gave her some courage as she turned back to face Vivienne, wondering for what purpose the Enchanter sought to isolate her from the rest of the salon.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Madame Vivienne began. "I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court."

Ahnnie did her best to muster a sincere smile. She already knew her host's identity and titles, but listened to her as a matter of custom. "Charmed, Madame Vivienne."

"Ah, but I didn't invite you to the Chateau for pleasantries."

Ahnnie didn't think that was the bulk of the salon, either. After watching her shred the Marquis' dignity into pieces, Madame Vivienne turned out to be much too crafty to extend an invitation to a controversial figure just for fun.

"You are already aware of the current state of the Chantry," Vivienne went on. "Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages in Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause."

"Last loyal mages?" Ahnnie echoed, puzzled by her new claim.

"To the people of Thedas, of course. We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man. I support any efforts to restore such order."

"As in, the Circles?"

"Of course," Vivienne nodded, her dark eyes purposeful. "Where else can mages safely learn to master their talents? We need an institution to protect and nurture magic. Maker knows, magic will find neither on its own."

 _She's not going to like Solas, then,_ Ahnnie thought in dismay. Hopefully, she would understand his presence in the Inquisition. And hopefully, Solas would understand Madame Vivienne's new membership, for the Inquisition would need allies as powerful and influential as she was. Such an alliance was heavily encouraged by Josephine, who briefed her on it while they were still getting ready. "She is well-versed in the politics of the Orlesian Empire," the ambassador had explained. "She knows every member of the Imperial Court personally. She has all the resources remaining to the Circle at her disposal, and she is a mage of no small talent. She will be most beneficial to the Inquisition; do not let the chance to ally with her slip away, should it arise!"

"That is very kind of you," Ahnnie thanked her, Josephine's words still ringing in her mind. "So, you have no problems with the Chantry not sanctioning the Inquisition...?"

"The Chantry is leaderless," Vivienne interjected. "They're in no position to officially sanction anything."

"You're not worried it might negatively affect you?"

She simply smiled at Ahnnie. "My dear, if there is one virtue the Chant of Light teaches us, it is forgiveness. Once the Inquisition has sealed the Breach, I'm sure the new Divine will not care in the slightest about official permission. Even so, I decide my own fate; I won't wait quietly for destruction."

That was a quality Ahnnie had to admit was particularly encouraging in a player of the Grand Game. "In that case, the Inquisition would gladly welcome support from someone in the Imperial Palace," she said, already imagining Josephine's happy reaction.

"Ordinarily, I would be happy to serve as liaison to the court," said Vivienne, "but these are not ordinary times. It is now the duty of every mage to work toward sealing the Breach, and so I would join the Inquisition on the field of battle."

Ahnnie blinked. She had not been expecting that. A moment later, however, her face warmed into a smile that was now truly sincere. "We would be even happier to have you beside us." For all the cold calculation Vivienne seemed to be composed of earlier, Ahnnie found herself liking the Enchanter's directness. God knows she herself would have gone insane in a culture as cunning as the Orlesian's.

Madame Vivienne was greatly pleased with this answer, and it came through in her voice. "Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that." With a hand of invitation, she beckoned Ahnnie back in the direction of the nobility. "Come, let us return to the salon – my guests would be most happy to hear more about America. I'm afraid the Chantry has only given us unsavory descriptions. You must come set the record straight."

"Of course, Madame Vivienne."


	18. Chapter 16

Ahnnie was invited the next morning to breakfast with the Madame. A servant woke her at the precise chiming of the eighth bell and led her down to a fashionable parlor room. There, the Madame sat waiting at a small table, stirring her hot drink with a dainty little spoon.

"Good morning, my dear," Madame Vivienne purred as she entered. "I trust you've had a good night's rest?"

The servant bowed before leaving, and Ahnnie walked up accordingly to the empty chair in front of Vivienne. "A very good one, thank you," she smiled as she sat down.

Vivienne nodded and brought the cup to her lips for a little sip. Finding it still lacking, she plopped a sugar cube into the drink and continued stirring. "What a curious thing you've done with your hair," she remarked a moment later.

Ahnnie held up a lock of wavy black hair. "Oh, I kept the braid on when I went to bed," she explained, then dropped the lock back down. "I used to do it before, occasionally. It's been a while since the last time..."

"It looks nice." Vivienne sipped her drink again, and this time found it satisfactory. "What it lacks is the proper attire to make it shine. I know a woman in the city, a fabulous seamstress; she can work wonders for your wardrobe."

"Thank you, Madame Vivienne. I will keep that in mind."

The Enchanter snapped her fingers after putting down her stirring spoon. "You must be thirsty. What would you like to start your day with, my dear?" On cue, a servant who had been standing sentinel behind her immediately came forward. "Tea? Chocolate? Coffee?"

Ahnnie perked up. "Did you say, 'coffee'?" she echoed.

"Indeed, I did. The finest grounds from Antiva."

Ahnnie fought the urge to shout with joy. _Coffee! Thedas has_ coffee _! Today's my lucky day!_ "I'll take coffee, please," she answered readily. "With steamed milk, if it's not too much trouble." She made a mental note for later to ask if sweet condensed milk was a thing yet. She missed the taste of cà phê sữa đá. _Us Vietnamese need our coffee – it's in our blood._

"Of course not, my dear. It never is." Vivienne then turned to the servant and flicked him off, watching as he bowed and strode out of the room to fulfill the order.

He returned a moment later with the much desired coffee, settling it down before a delighted Ahnnie. Following close behind, another servant brought in breakfast: two plates of crêpes filled with cream and fresh berries, accompanied by twin saucers of a chocolate sauce.

Vivienne drizzled a little of the sauce in a criss-cross pattern over her crêpes before cutting into them daintily with her fork. When she looked up again, she noticed Ahnnie making a scrunched-up face upon sampling her coffee. "Does it need some sugar?" Vivienne asked, gesturing towards the sugar cubes.

Ahnnie shook her head. "I prefer it as-is in the morning," she explained. "It was just a little hot, and I drank too fast."

"Do be careful."

She kept that advice in mind as she cut into her crêpes, dousing a bit of the cold cream onto her scalded tongue. Next, she speared a berry with the fork and dipped it lightly into the sauce. When she put it in her mouth a moment later, she realized just how much she missed tasting such sweet flavors. Eager to be reacquainted with them, she cut a piece of crêpe and berry and dipped into the sauce again, munching happily away with careful sips of coffee between intervals.

"They were most charming, the stories you told last night," Vivienne said after a while. "Earth sounds like a very curious place."

Ahnnie waited till she finished chewing before replying. "It was my pleasure, Madame. I'm glad I could entertain with my experiences." She tilted her head in thought. "It's interesting, but they were just normal things to me back home. Here though, they're such novelties."

"I'm sure we could say the same of Thedas to people of your world."

"That's true," she conceded. "They do like to write stories about worlds like Thedas. They call it the 'fantasy' genre."

Vivienne laughed. "Fantasy! Why, is it because of the magic?"

"Yes." At this, the Madame laughed some more.

Her reaction was typical of the other Orlesians who had listened to Ahnnie the previous evening. For people who distrusted the unrestrained use of magic, they became awfully proud of it when they learned of its absence on Earth. Then upon hearing of the scientific and technological advances, they wondered in a fascinated vein whether or not it might be due to a subtle form of magic the Earthlings couldn't comprehend? As for America, the land in which the Otherworlder lived, they were glad to discover it was not the dimension of demons the Chantry made it out to be, but found it strange that its people chose who governed them rather than submit to a monarchy, 'as was only right'.

"Why, they are even more barbarous than the Fereldans," Comtesse Sabine had remarked. "At least _their_ nobles preside over the Landsmeet; can you imagine a whole people choosing who sits on the throne, regardless of station or blood, with the power to overthrow that ruler whenever it so suits them?"

"Pure anarchy!" another noble had agreed.

"It's an Oval Office, not a throne," Ahnnie had to correct them. "There's a Congress, Senate, and House of Representatives sharing power with the President, and there's also a trial before he gets impeached, if it comes to that."

But the Orlesians would not be convinced; they thought the democratic system inferior to their own, and when Ahnnie explained the three other houses of power as checks-and-balances to one another, the only thing the were convinced of was America's lawlessness. They seemed to think that of any Earthen country with a history of revolution and independence; she was unsurprised to hear the same things said of Vietnam breaking away from French colonial rule and decided not to tell them about the French Revolution. Rather than taking offense, she was amused by their reactions, more interested in the sociological factor that played into their opinions than any concern over her own.

The Madame herself made many of her opinions known that night, most of them aligning with the general consensus of centralized rule, others more favorably aligned with the Americans', such as the civil and women's rights. _And yet_ _, no complete freedoms for the mages,_ Ahnnie noticed, though she kept it to herself.

But besides that, who _exactly_ was Vivienne? What did being a Court Enchanter mean, and why did Duke Bastien allow her the liberty to throw salons in his home? That last question had been bugging her since the previous evening. The Chateau de Ghislain was the Duke's, but Vivienne had called it 'my house' when chiding the Marquis. It was confusing.

"Madame Vivienne, if you don't mind, I would like to ask you more about yourself," Ahnnie began. "I spoke a lot about myself at the salon, but I wasn't able to get to know you well. I find that very rude of me, especially towards my most gracious host," she added for good measure.

The Madame smiled wryly. "No need to strain yourself, my dear. There are no other nobles present; you may pause the Game to speak plainly with me."

Ahnnie smiled, though she still felt somewhat wary. "I couldn't help noticing your accent's not Orlesian. Where, exactly, are you from?"

"I am from the Circle, my dear," Vivienne replied. "One's country of origin rarely matters there. But if you must know, I was born in Wycome in the Free Marches. I was sent to the Ostwick Circle, but I transferred to Montsimmard while still an apprentice."

The Ostwick Circle! "I have a friend in the Ostwick Circle," Ahnnie beamed.

"Indeed?"

"Yes," Ahnnie nodded, but caught herself before she could reveal Evelyn's name, remembering only at the last minute that the mage was not yet free to openly associate with her. "She's a very nice mage," she said instead. "How did you wind up at court, then?" Hopefully, this change in subject was sufficient to keep the Madame from probing further.

"Nobody 'winds up' at court, my dear," Vivienne said in an amused tone. "It takes a great deal of effort to arrive there. I caught the eye of Duke Bastien de Ghislain, an advantageous connection that opened many doors. When the position of Enchanter to the Imperial Court became vacant, I was able to secure it."

"Ah, so you're Duke Bastien's wife?" _That would make sense_...

Madame Vivienne laughed, surprising her. "Of course not, my dear! Don't be ridiculous. Marriage is the business of alliance and inheritance. I'm Bastien's mistress."

Ahnnie blushed, completely taken aback. "O-oh," she stuttered, "so...is there a Duchess de Ghislain?"

"There _was_. Duchess Nicoline passed away from a fever a few years ago, the poor dear."

"Was she...jealous of you?"

"On the contrary, we got along quite well. Duchess Nicoline and I used to host musical salons together. She was a great patron of the arts." Madame Vivienne spoke so casually, she made being friends with the spouse of one's lover sound like an everyday affair.

"I see," Ahnnie nodded. _Shit would have hit the fan if they were Vietnamese,_ she thought, remembering some choice incidents. Or of any other Earthen culture that practiced monogamy, for that matter – not that this was a norm for Orlesian culture, either. It was refreshing to hear the Duchess being so graceful about it, but...was she ever hurt? Didn't she love the Duke? And then... _No way, did she have affairs of her own?_ It wouldn't be un-Orlesian to do so. Shaking that thought away, Ahnnie went on to her next point of curiosity. "So, um, what are a Court Enchanter's duties?"

The Madame took a sip of her drink before answering. "I am tasked with providing assistance to the Empress on arcane matters. Most of my predecessors restricted this to lighting lamps and doing parlor tricks; in such troubled times as these, however, I provide political advice to Her Majesty on the subject of the mage rebellion."

"It must be busy work."

"It is," Madame Vivienne agreed.

Then it occurred to her..."Will Her Majesty object to your absence from the Palace?"

Vivienne sighed. "To be fair, my dear, she has her hands tied with the civil war as of the moment. She has not consulted me on the mages in a while. I wouldn't be offering to assist the Inquisition if I were still required at the Imperial Palace, so you needn't worry about that."

Ahnnie sat back and digested this information with a long, appreciative sip at her coffee. "I must seem so nosy, asking all these questions," she teased.

"Oh, no, darling, it was my pleasure to answer them."

"If you don't mind, I just have one last one."

"Go ahead."

"What does 'Madame de Fer' mean?"

Vivienne gave her an amused smile as she speared a berry on her plate. "'Lady of Iron'."

* * *

" _Đời tôi cô đơn nên yêu ai cũng không duyên. Đời tôi cô đơn nên yêu ai cũng không thành_..."

Ahnnie stopped singing when she heard movement behind her. She froze, remembering that strange prickling of being watched – but turned around a moment later to see none other than Solas strolling down the gravel path. Relief flooded her instantly, followed by embarrassment. She turned back down her line of travel to meet up with him, smiling cheerily as they came face to face.

"It's a pretty cool garden, huh?" Ahnnie remarked, looking at the greenery around them.

"It feels quite warm to me," Solas interjected.

"Oh no, I meant 'cool' as in, uh..." She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to think of an appropriate synonym. "'Impressive', 'great'...it's an Earth thing," she explained. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"It is all right, da'len," Solas chuckled, ruffling her head.

A warm and fuzzy feeling tickled her cheeks at his friendly touch. It then struck her that many of her companions tended to treat her like a child, as though she were not the young woman her age dictated her to be. Cassandra, for one, would not let her stay up on watch or fight in the Hinterlands, Josephine kept stressing rules and points of importance as if she were forgetful, Varric enjoyed teasing her, Blackwall tried to keep her out of trouble, and Solas called her _da'len_. _Do I really look_ that _young?_ she wondered, touching a hand to her cheek. _Or, no...it's how I act..._ which, in turn, reinforced her physical appearance. But this time, rather than feeling shame, she felt warmed.

 _I'd forgotten how it feels like to be a kid,_ she thought. _To have people who cared like that..._ Beaming up at Solas, she asked him when he drew his hand away, "Do you want to try a maze with me? I was heading for one just now."

"A maze, hm? Why not?"

They headed for the nearest one and entered its leafy corridor without hesitance. It was no surprise to her that she felt lost after a few minutes, but she didn't mind. She was doing this for fun, and if it was anything like the mazes she'd read about on Earth, then they would eventually be able to solve it.

"I heard that as long as you keep your hand on the right wall, it'll lead you to the exit." Her fingers brushed the hedge in response, tickling against the immaculately trimmed leaves.

"Hedge mazes are usually built for their novelty," Solas remarked. "They might be long, but they will never be impossible. There isn't any point in needlessly trapping one's guests, after all."

"True." It was still fun, though. She closed her eyes, seeing in her mind's eye the same maze around them but without hedges for walls... _Cornfield mazes, right before Halloween..._ But the smell around her was that of fresh greenery and spring, not crisp apples and cinnamon, which dissipated the vision a moment later. She opened her eyes again to find herself almost within kissing distance of a green dead end. Alarmed, she whirled back around and saw Solas standing several feet away with a smile on his face. "Why didn't you tell me?" she admonished him playfully as she rushed back.

"The guy from The Shining died lost in a maze, though," she said after a while, thinking aloud.

"Hm?" Solas asked.

"A horror movie," she explained.

"...I see."

They reached the maze's center after a while, a circular clearing with a little gazebo in the middle. The elf and girl decided to take a break there and sat down on the white stone benches, the domed roof of the gazebo forming a circle of cool shade upon them.

"Horror movies often grossly exaggerate," Solas suddenly said, breaking the peaceful silence. "I'm not surprised many of their characters die; no one in their right mind would make the same mistakes as they do."

Ahnnie raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why, did you watch one?"

"In the Fade, yes."

What! A movie, in the Fade? Ahnnie leaned in closer, suddenly curious. "How did you do that? Was it in my dreams? Wait...did you enter one of my dreams?" she asked accusingly.

"No, I didn't have to do that," he denied. " _You_ brought remnants of your world with you. While it is true that your memories played a part, your very presence brought some of Earth's essence closer to Thedas."

Her face beamed with excitement. _That means home might not be so far away after all!_ But she didn't voice this, not in light of what she was still supposed to do. So she asked instead, "When did you notice this? What else did you see? Oh my god, it's been ages since I've seen a movie! Can I come along too?"

Solas gave her a sly smile in return. "Unfortunately, da'len, to be able to journey farther into the Fade, one must have a better knowledge of magic. Which, if I remember correctly, you rejected to acquiring."

 _Burn._ "Well, I'd have you with me, right hahren?" she asked anyway.

"Do I look like I wish to rescue a helpless child whenever she falls into trouble?" he jested.

"You've done it before. Why not again?" All jokes aside, Ahnnie would not enter the Fade if Solas thought her incapable. She was not keen on honing her mana either, not after what happened. But on the topic of magic, a nagging question resurfaced in her mind. She tapped an index finger against the stone bench as she thought of how to broach the subject. "Say, Solas," she slowly began, "what do you think of our host?"

The elf settled his staff against the bench beside him. "Nothing of significance," he answered casually.

She looked at him. "Really?"

"Madame Vivienne is an advantageous ally – that is enough to content me."

 _I wonder if he knows..._ Ahnnie sighed, looking down on the bench where her hand rested. "I like how she's different from most Orlesians. Well, most Orlesians I've met anyway. Of course, she's still a bit snooty, but that's because of how she lives, right? She told me she's from the Montsimmard Circle, and..."

"If you're trying to make me feel better about her views on the mages, you may rest assured that I feel nothing from them."

She blushed. "So...you know already?"

"You were being very obvious, da'len," Solas mused. "It wasn't difficult to deduce what you were going to say. But thank you, anyway, for being concerned."

"You're welcome, I guess..." _Dang, I've got to stop worrying so much! I'm making mountains out of molehills._ "You're not being treated unfairly, though?" she asked, still unable to shake some of it off. "Everything's cool – er, okay?"

"Everything is... _cool_ ," he said, smiling amusedly. "I would be sure to tell you if it were otherwise."

"Okay," she nodded. "It's just that...well, her being a mage and all, and in her position, too...I mean, 'Court Enchanter' was just a useless position until the Empress needed her help!"

"Not all mages think the same," Solas pointed out. "And so it is with templars. Opinions are rarely as cut-and-dried as we believe them to be."

"I know...I just don't want it to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm fine, I assure you. Come now, stop worrying – we still have a maze to solve."

They then got up from the benches and plunged back into the maze. As Ahnnie expected, they were able to find the exit, but not before running into a few more dead ends that were easily negotiable. While still in the maze, Solas talked of the other things he saw in the Fade, which took her mind off her anxieties. She was back to being careless once they exited the hedges, and wondered if it wouldn't hurt to bear with a little magic just to see those coveted traces of Earth?

 _Maybe – I'll think about it._

* * *

He slinked about the stones, silent as a shadow, listening to the two men as they walked down the corridor. _Clank, clank, clank..._ their armor heralded their presence with every step, so loud and conspicuous in the dark emptiness.

"Did you hear of the Chantry?"

"What about it?"

"They accepted those Inquisition soldiers."

"Blast."

He stalked after them, watching their great backs going up and down, up and down, down the long stone corridor.

"The Lord Seeker's been so pissed ever since."

A derisive laugh. "What, does he suddenly care now?"

A shrug. "I'd care too, if someone showed me up. What'd people think, seeing something like that? You know?"

"If he cared so much, he wouldn't have...ah, Maker's balls. Nothing the Lord Seeker's done has made sense, since..."

"Since what? What're you trying to say?"

"Nothing. Forget what I just said."

 _Clank, clank. Clank, clank._

"I wonder what he's going to do about it."

"Do what? He's ordered us out of Val Royeaux."

"But we're not gone yet."

"So you think..."

A meaningful silence.

"Yes. She's just a kid – maybe she can be influenced."

"I guess? But what sense does it make to..."

Another shrug. "I dunno. The Lord Seeker hasn't been himself lately. If he doesn't do that, Maker only knows what else he'll do."

He paused in his tracks. Her – they're speaking of her! The one whom people called "otherworlder", come to Thedas from a distant land beyond the Fade. He's seen her several times, out in the city. _What a beautiful city. Why does it have to be so cruel? Can't things be easy for once?_ Her apprehension, so palpable he could feel it within him. _What the hell? Who's following me? Is there someone following me?_ Careful observation, brown eyes piercing straight through him, only to fall away a moment later.

Maybe...if the big Seeker was going to do as the men said...maybe he would see her again? If that was so...

 _I must warn her,_ he thought, and slipped away.

* * *

Blade clashed against blade in a shout of ringing metal. The combatants jumped back briefly before rejoining to trade more blows, sparks flying between them. After a few more parries, their blades locked into a standstill, pushing indecisively against one another. Then they broke away, relaxing their stances upon the sharp clap of the Seeker.

"Very good," Cassandra nodded. "Now, one more time."

Ahnnie straightened up and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "Can't I have a break, Cassandra? Just one?"

"You're asking for a break now?" the Seeker asked. "That only proves you have been idle for too long. Go again."

 _Uuuuugggh,_ Ahnnie groaned, and readied her stance for another match with Blackwall.

"Seeker Cassandra is being cruel today," Josephine chuckled whilst looking over some papers in her hands.

"What do you expect?" the Seeker asked back. "Even I have not trained in a while. In fact, I will go against her in the next round. Just because we are far from Haven does not mean we can neglect our training."

Madame Vivienne picked up the glass of juice from the small table between her and Josephine, bringing it to her mouth for a sip. "How very true," the Enchanter mused. "I don't doubt that she has been taught well, but it is clear to see that she could benefit from more polishing."

 _I can hear you,_ Ahnnie thought as she blocked a swipe from Blackwall.

But the Madame had a point. Their time at the Chateau de Ghislain was leisurely and relaxing, like a long undue vacation, and threatened to soften the edge Cassandra had instilled in her. It was very close to living in the modern comfort that she had previously taken for granted; bathing was regular, food was plentiful, and most extraneous chores were done for her. She would also star in occasional salons, burdened by nothing more than how her clothes looked or what she had to say. Thus, it came as no surprise that she had become more complacent, more slack, and of course, a little more round.

Luckily for the Seeker (but perhaps not so luckily for Ahnnie), their time in Orlais was drawing to a close. With the Chantry having finally accepted their soldiers not less than two days ago, and the soldiers themselves now guarding the Grand Cathedral, there was no more of a reason to stick around in Val Royeaux. Arrangements had been made with a captain Vivienne was acquainted with and they would board the next ship for Jader within a few days.

While the combatants clashed, a servant arrived on the veranda bearing some mail on a silver tray. The Madame put down her drink to sort through the papers, mulling leisurely amongst the wax seals and titles while the swords danced in the foreground. She frowned upon coming to the next-to-last paper and looked up to hand it to Josephine. "My dear, this one is for you," she purred.

Lady Josephine looked up from her own papers to take the one from the Madame. The ambassador looked it over confusedly, pausing a moment upon recognizing the seal. With a tentative hand, she broke it and unfolded the letter.

A while later, Seeker Cassandra made her jolt with another sharp clap to end the training segment. "I'll grant you a five minute break now, and then I will go against you."

Ahnnie slapped her short sword back into its scabbard and made her way with Blackwall to the veranda's welcoming shade. "Only five minutes!" she mumbled to herself as she plopped down into a nearby chair.

Blackwall did the same, albeit in a less exhausted manner. He turned over to Josephine and gave her a polite smile. "Are you all right, my lady? You don't look so happy reading that letter."

Josephine struggled a moment to form words before letting out her breath in an anxious chuckle. "It is nothing," she assured him, but then remembered that it indeed _was_ something. "Except for...um, Lady Ahnnie?"

Ahnnie turned over in her chair. "Yes?" she panted.

"And Lady Cassandra, I suppose," Josephine added. "Lord Seeker Lucius has asked to speak with the Herald of Andraste at the Seeker Headquarters..."

"What?" Cassandra snapped, storming over to the ambassador. "When?"

"Any time before we leave, actually," Josephine clarified.

Ahnnie frowned. "I thought he and the templars left Val Royeaux?"

"Well, apparently, they're still here..."

"What does he want?" Cassandra asked, her sharp eyes glaring.

Josephine looked down at the letter again and sighed. "I do not know," she admitted. "If we go by the letter, he wants to work out negotiations, saying it doesn't have to be this way between the Inquisition and the templars."

The Seeker paced about the veranda in thought. "Perhaps he has changed his mind," she muttered, "though why would he be so malleable all of a sudden? First the withdrawal, now this..."

"But there is just one thing."

All eyes turned back to Josephine.

"He wants only a small group to accompany her, and when it comes down to the actual talking..." Her dark eyes wandered over to Ahnnie. "...he wants to do it with her...alone."

* * *

The carriage trotted amiably down the city streets, but to Ahnnie, the thing was going too damn fast.

"I'm sure it's nothing serious," Blackwall assured her. "Dignitaries often ask to speak with each other alone. Happens all the time."

"But I'm _not_ a dignitary," Ahnnie protested, a worried hand running through her hair. "I'm just...I don't know! A figurehead? A...what's it you call someone who has power only in name?"

"'Figurehead' is correct," Josephine said, "but let us not forget the power you _do_ hold." She pointed to the girl's left hand. "Because of that and what our mission is, your image is closely tied to the Inquisition. Therefore, it is no surprise that important figures may wish to speak to you on occasion. Now, I may not be an expert on military leaders, but I believe the Lord Seeker's request so soon after the Chantry's acceptance of our soldiers to be no small coincidence."

"That is not what Lord Seeker Lucius would do," Cassandra cut in.

"Would the Lord Seeker have returned to Val Royeaux to make a show of the templars' withdrawal?" Josephine countered.

Cassandra frowned, then shook her head.

Solas put a reassuring hand on Ahnnie's. "Do not worry. I will be close by."

The girl looked up and gave him a helpless smile. "You won't be allowed in their headquarters, though. No one will be allowed to enter with me. I'll be alone..." The realization crashed into and swept over her like a devastating wave. The only time she had ever talked to someone important in private was with Mother Giselle. _But this is Lord Seeker Lucius...the guy who wouldn't think twice about punching a helpless old woman..._ even if he wasn't the one to throw the punch, it still counted that he didn't care, for he would have reprimanded his man otherwise.

"Even so, I will be near," Solas interjected.

"Thanks," she said, even though she could see no use in his proximity if she was still going in alone.

"We will _all_ be close by," Cassandra reaffirmed. "I believe it will only be a moment's talk–"

"But what if I have to make an important decision?" she interrupted.

"Tell him you will think about it," Josephine said, "and discuss it with us afterward."

"Okay..."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, allowing the rhythm of the carriage to overtake them. After a while, Cassandra drew aside the fancy curtain to peer out the window. "We are here," she announced, much to Ahnnie's dismay.

The carriage swerved into the open gates of an imposing stone fortress, the banners of which were emblazoned with the Seeker emblem. Men in dark armor stood guardian at the gateposts, and when the carriage stopped within the courtyard, a small group led by the dark skinned templar from before greeted the five of them.

"Knight-Templar Derlin Barris, at your service," he saluted.

Cassandra nodded in acknowledgement. "Seeker Cassandra," she introduced with a similar gesture.

Ser Barris looked the party over, his eyes catching onto Solas almost immediately. "I am afraid the mage will not be allowed," he said with regret.

"Of course," Solas smiled wryly. "I will wait here with the carriage, then."

Ahnnie reached out a desperate hand for the elf. "But..."

"You'll be fine," he assured her, returning her hand to her side.

The templar frowned, but then turned his attention to the girl. "Come; I am to take you to the Lord Seeker's office."

"The rest of us will accompany her along the way," Cassandra stated, stepping in besides the frightened Ahnnie.

Ser Barris nodded. "Of course."

And so they set off across the courtyard for the fortress proper. Ahnnie looked back over her shoulder, watching Solas grow smaller and smaller behind her. He noticed her gaze and gave her a reassuring wave before she disappeared under a great stone arch, and subsequently through a large oaken door, and then the courtyard was shut away from her view.

The click of the latch was a small, inconsequential sound, but to Ahnnie it felt like a great weight upon her soul. The group strode forward under the lead of Ser Barris, the only souls walking the torchlit corridors of nothing but endless stone and occasional tapestry.

"So I see the templars have not yet left Val Royeaux?" Josephine inquired a moment later, breaking the silence. Her lilting voice echoed eerily against the walls, causing Ahnnie to draw in closer to Cassandra and Blackwall.

"The Lord Seeker has not yet given us his command," Ser Barris replied.

"Forgive me, but he seems to have taken great liberties with the Order," Cassandra remarked.

"He has taken command," said Ser Barris. "Permanently."

Cassandra frowned. "If he feels there is a holy mandate..."

"That is what the Lord Seeker claims, and our commanders parrot him." Ser Barris sighed. "If I may speak plainly with you – the Lord Seeker's actions make no sense. He promised to restore the Order's honor, then does all these contradictory things?" His voice hardened. "Templars should know their duty, even when held from it."

There was a fire in his words that Ahnnie knew was both dangerous for him and yet would not be easily suppressed. _So he has doubted, and has been persuaded..._ but what would happen then? What did he hope to come out of today's meeting? In fact, what should she aim for, and what did the Lord Seeker himself intend? It was all so confusing.

Ser Barris led them up a staircase, where they passed by two armed templars. The men took no notice of them, but something seemed a little...off, about them. Ahnnie frowned, not quite sure she was even being herself. She noticed Blackwall looking strangely at them as well, but...

"Here we are," Ser Barris announced. He had halted them in front of a door, and looked back uncertainly at Ahnnie. "Whatever you do...if you can convince the Lord Seeker...win him over, and every able-bodied knight will help the Inquisition seal the Breach."

She let out a steady exhalation to hide her nervousness. _So he thinks I'm here to make an alliance._ "I will try," she responded at length, smiling at Ser Barris. _But that's a lot to ask for._

Ser Barris nodded and rapped on the wood. "The Herald of Andraste, here to see you, sir."

There was a period of nerve wracking silence. Then, from behind the door: "Enter."

The templar turned the knob and twisted it open. From the tiny slit, Ahnnie could see a dark stone room, dimly lit with torches.

She turned back around to look at Cassandra, Josephine, and Blackwall. "I'll just be a moment," she said, as if this were only a small errand she had to run. "I'll see you later."

Blackwall nodded encouragingly. "We'll be waiting for you."

"Don't be too nervous," Josephine chimed in.

Cassandra said nothing, only giving her a purposeful look with her sharp eyes.

 _And in I go,_ Ahnnie thought as she turned around and wedged herself into the room. The door shut behind her with a soft click, separating her at last from her familiar companions.

The gloom took some time to get used to, but once her eyes adjusted, she found herself in a small anteroom of sorts leading to a bigger main one. She walked up to it and saw a subdued blaze crackling away in a hearth to her left, with a pair of chairs sitting before a desk directly ahead. In front of that desk, standing with his back to her, hands folded, was none other than Lord Seeker Lucius. She recognized him by his hair, dark and slick like a raven's pruned back.

He seemed not to have noticed her approach, so she cleared her throat. "Lord Seeker Lucius?"

She was most unnerved to find that he did not acknowledge her, continuing to stand like a silent statue by the desk.

"L-Lord Seeker?" she tried again.

Still, no response...

 _Okay, this is getting creepy._ Should she back out right now? It was starting to remind her of those dreaded horror movies. _I don't want to be one of the dumb characters,_ she thought, but then reprimanded herself. Perhaps he was just trying to throw her off her guard. Of course, he would want to gain whatever advantage over her early in the talk. She was just imagining things, letting her thoughts wander, getting too nervous...

She took a deep breath and slowly walked up to him. To keep her mind elsewhere, she focused on Josephine's points of initiation. "Ah, Lord Seeker Lucius," she said, speaking too loud for her own good, "what a pleasant surprise. I had not expected to meet you again so soon..."

When she was within speaking distance of him, the Lord Seeker chuckled.

"Lord Seeker?" she inquired.

He suddenly whirled around and grabbed her by the collar with both hands. She yelped in surprise, struggling against his iron grip as he dragged her close to his face. Hot breath puffed down her jaw and neck, so close their noses practically touched, and his dark eyes bore into hers maliciously.

"Wh-what are you doing!? Let me go!" she screamed, completely alarmed. "Cassandra! Blackwall!"

"No one can hear you now," he groused, and began pulling her along to every backward step he took.

"Stop! Stop it! I – I demand you!" But no matter how she yelled or kicked or clawed, the Lord Seeker would not relent.

Lord Seeker Lucius chuckled again. "At last!" he exclaimed, before the room suddenly disappeared around her in a bright flash of green light...

* * *

 _...Where am I?  
_

Swirling mist floated around her, a grey veil of smoky uncertainty. Ahnnie whirled around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Just a moment ago, she was in the office of the Lord Seeker. But now...

She appeared to be in a snowy wasteland, with a low-lying mist hanging on the ground and nothing but a cold crescent moon to light her way. In the distance, a dark shape like a tower pierced the monotonous landscape, its only window glowing like a guiding beacon in a mysterious sea. With a shiver, she made for it, unable to think of doing anything else.

But just when she approached its stone staircase, a dark shape stalked forward from the mist. Ahnnie paused, backing up a step.

" **Is this shape useful? Will it let me know you?** "

The mist parted to reveal a face she hadn't seen in a while. She paused, unable to believe who was standing before her eyes. "Maxwell?" she gasped, recognizing the handsome face of the youngest Trevelyan.

Maxwell smiled coldly. " **Everything tells me about you,** " he said. His voice suddenly took on a different quality, like that of two people talking at once. Ahnnie knew then that this wasn't Maxwell. Horror movie trivia told her otherwise.

"You're not Maxwell!" she cried. "You're – you're a demon!"

The demon chuckled and began to pace around her. " **Being you will be _so_ much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker. When I'm done, the Elder One will kill you and ascend. Then I will _be_ you.**"

 _I knew it! I knew something was wrong with the Lord Seeker!_ But she had no idea it was something of this magnitude. And now whatever it was wanted to take over her body? For...for an 'Elder One'? "'Elder One'?" she echoed. "Who or what is that?"

The faux Maxwell let out a laugh. " **He is between things. Mortal once, but no longer.** " Then he suddenly blinked into nothing, as though he had never been there in the first place.

Ahnnie whirled around, not quite able to believe he was completely gone. Her eyes darted here and there, trying futilely to spy irregular shapes in the mist.

" **Glory is coming** ," the demon rasped from behind her, and she jumped to face him. " **T** **he Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else: by dying in the right way.** "

"S-stop this!" she screamed, backing away from Maxwell – Maxwell, but not Maxwell. "Get away from me!" She turned tail and fled for the stairs, scared out of her wits. If only this were a horror movie; at least movies were false. But this was real, all too real–

" **I am not your toy!** " demon Maxwell cried after her. She shut her hands over her ears, but his voice still boomed into them. " **I am Envy, and I _will_ know you!**"

Her legs pumped up the steps as fast as she could get them and her hands scrambled for the latch. Once she was inside, she slammed the door behind her, locking and double-locking it with whatever mechanisms were available. Then she sank down to her knees, breathing heavily. _Oh my god...Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..._ "What the hell!?" she shouted to no one in particular. "Where am I, what is happening, what...what...?"

But perhaps she was glad there was no one to hear her; if they were anything like Maxwell, then she was better off alone.

 _Thud!_ The door suddenly shivered behind her from the force of a powerful blow. She jumped like a cat on fire and ran away from it, heading for the wooden stairs that beckoned to her as the only way out. It brought her to the top of the tower, a nondescript room of wood and stone that was devoid of any furniture. The only thing of note was a door set into the wall directly across from her, which she tentatively stepped towards.

"Wait."

Ahnnie froze, her body instinctively tensing. _No. No, he can't have followed me in here, he can't..._ The voice was different, a single male voice this time, gentle even, but there was every chance it was a piece of deception meant to delude her. She suddenly remembered the short sword at her hip and gripped its hilt, slowly withdrawing it as she turned around.

 _Nothing. No one's there._ Her heart hammered rapidly and she fought to calm it down, but to no avail. _This is so much_ worse _than a horror movie. I've got to get out of here._ With a shake of her head, she drew out her sword and turned back around to make for the door.

"Mirrors on mirrors on memories," the voice suddenly spoke again. "A face it can feel, but not fake."

Ahnnie whirled around again, but like before, there was no one – not a soul! She was all alone in this room, yet she could hear a voice...! "What the hell do you want from me!?" she demanded.

"I want to help. You, not Envy."

"Ha...! Ahahaha!" She turned and turned and turned until she made herself dizzy, but there was no one there. Nothing. "Very funny, Envy! That's your name, right? You get a kick out of scaring people like this?"

"I'm Cole," the voice protested.

"Y-yeah? And I'm the Queen of Sheba!" Her hands began to shake. She gripped them harder around the sword in an attempt to keep them steady. "So what the fuck is this place, huh? Since you're so willing to talk now?"

"We're inside you. Or I am. You're always inside you."

Ahnnie laughed again. Any more of this, and she might just lose her mind. "Oh, really? Well why don't you show yourself, _Cole_?" she spat as she spun about. "Or are you too scared to–" She yelped and jumped backwards when she came face-to-face a scraggly young man standing upside-down on the ceiling.

He was a living defiance of gravity. Never mind standing upside down – his wide-brimmed hat sat atop his head as flat and level as if he had been standing normally. Messy blonde bangs threatened to cover his eyes, two drooping orbs of watery blue-grey. "It's easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you're hearing," he said. "But I'm here, hearing, helping...I hope."

Ahnnie blinked, somehow recognizing those eyes. Then she remembered – "You're the one who's been following me!"

The man – or, Cole – jumped, rising briefly from the ceiling before somehow flipping right-side up in another gravity-defying feat. She instinctively backed away when he touched the ground, holding her sword out in warning at him. "I was watching," he explained, stepping forward for every step she took back. "I watch. Every templar knew when you arrived. They were impressed, but not like the Lord Seeker."

"Or Envy," she corrected him. "Was he a demon even then? At that day in the Bazaar?"

"Yes," Cole nodded. "It twisted the commanders, forced their fury, their fight. They're red inside."

She gasped, her back suddenly bumping against a wall. Determined not to let him corner her, she thrust her blade further at his face. "Not another step," she warned him.

But he suddenly blinked away and reappeared right next to her. "Anyway, you're frozen," he continued, unaffected by her threats. "Envy is trying to take your face, I heard it and reached out, and then in, and then I was here." He pushed away her blade with a casual hand, though she was too stunned at the moment to care. "If it bothers you, I can make you forget. That helps." Then he frowned. "No, you need all of you right now to fight...maybe later."

A muffled thud echoed from the floor below; Ahnnie's breath caught in her throat when she remembered what she had tried to flee from. "H-he's coming," she stuttered, bringing up the sword again. "All right, Cole, if you're here to help, then how do I get out?"

Cole looked at the stairs, then at the door. "It's _your_ head," he reminded her. "I hoped you'd know how to stop it."

"Great," she muttered, "just great!" The thud came again, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood, and her eyes frantically zeroed in on the door in front of them. "Through that door!" she pointed, and they both made a run for it.

But when she opened it, it was to find an angry figure glaring at her on the other side. If she was confused before, she was completely bewildered now, unable to think of why or how this person could have made it here.

"Mẹ nói với con như vậy phải không? _Phải không_?" the figure demanded, her old voice ringing sharply.

 _No way...Grandma?_


	19. Chapter 17

*** Warning* **This chapter contains mentions of childhood sexual abuse. I've watered it down from the main version on Ao3, and the rest of the fic isn't likely to contain such content again, so I thought it would be better to warn about it here before you read. (Also, there are definitions for foreign words at the bottom)

* * *

"You can wait here until she finishes," Ser Barris said as he led the Seeker, Warden, and ambassador into a stony waiting room. It was not exactly a picture of comfort, sporting one narrow window and furnished with hard wooden chairs. The only attempt at decoration was a single dark Seeker tapestry. Taking this into consideration, Ser Barris' eyes wandered over to the prim ambassador. "I apologize if it's not comfortable..."

"It is fine," Josephine assured him with a smile as she took her seat.

Blackwall sat down near her, while Cassandra elected to stand.

"If there's nothing you might need," Ser Barris began after a moment's silence, but Cassandra cut him off.

"Tell me, Ser Barris – what does the Lord Seeker want from this meeting?"

The Knight-Templar blinked. "Why, I thought he explained it in the letter."

She glowered at him. "Josephine?"

Josephine immediately looked over to Cassandra. "To work out negotiations," she replied.

"But to what end?"

Ser Barris frowned. "To better relations with the Inquisition, of course."

Cassandra began to pace about, her face brooding. "Is that really true?" she asked at last. "Even if we were to establish such relations, could we trust the Lord Seeker not to change them as suddenly as he brought them about?" Before Ser Barris could respond, she turned around to face him. "Something is not right. And you know it."

Josephine suddenly perked up. "He called her 'Herald of Andraste' – as did you, when addressing him," she added, turning to Ser Barris. "The Lord Seeker may have become fickle, but he never was any flatterer. He could have chosen to call her 'the Herald', or simply 'Herald' instead; a very drastic change, in light of his former opinions."

"I assumed it was because he wanted to facilitate negotiations," Ser Barris said, though his frown and the tone of his voice told them he was now thinking otherwise.

Blackwall looked from each of the women to the templar, then to Cassandra again. "What do you think is–"

Suddenly, a flustered templar rushed into the room, panting heavily. "Derlin," he wheezed, "they're going crazy – it's not safe – you've got to–"

Ser Barris' frown deepened. "What are you talking about?" But before the question could be answered, a man in bigger armor leading two others behind him strode stoically into the doorway. Ser Barris recognized him, as his question indicated. "Knight-Captain?"

The cowering templar gasped, scrabbling frantically for his sword. Just as he had it withdrawn, one of the men behind the Knight-Captain intercepted him, knocking the weapon out of his hands with a savage blow before plunging a blade deep into his abdomen. Blackwall and Cassandra instinctively reached for their weapons and Josephine let out a scream of horror as the bleeding templar fell dead to the ground. Ser Barris stared at the corpse and then up at the Knight-Captain, eyes wide with incredulity.

The Knight-Captain's response was cryptic and confusing. "The Lord Seeker had a plan, but the Herald ruined it by arriving with purpose. It sowed too much dissent."

"Knight-Captain Denam, I must know what's going on!" Ser Barris demanded.

"You were all supposed to be changed!" Captain Denam barked. "Now we must purge the questioning knights!"

"Change...?" A look of horror overcame Ser Barris' face. "You can't mean–"

"The Elder One is coming! No one will leave this place, who is not stained red!" Captain Denam waved forth the two templars at his side, and they advanced into the room with their weapons ready.

"Maker's breath!" Ser Barris cursed, and he, too, drew out his sword.

* * *

"Có phải không?" the old woman demanded again.

Ahnnie backed away from her and bumped into Cole. With a nervous jump, she whirled around to face him, but when she did so, the door and the tower room were revealed to have disappeared – in their stead were modern furnishings, faux leather sofas and a glass coffee table cornering a squat television set, the old kind with antennae on top. And they were not alone; two younger women, one squat, one tall, stood glowering on either side of the grandmother, their arms crossed. A skinny man stood off to one side, his black mustache drooping on his moping face. Behind the adults, three younger children sat with their faces downcast at a glass dining table.

And then, when Ahnnie completed her circuit, she found herself staring down on a frightened little girl with bobbed hair.

 _Me,_ she realized.

"Nói đi," one of the women snapped, and Ahnnie turned back around to look at the squat one.

"Con đừng có giấu gì hết nhe," the tall one warned.

The little girl behind her began to sniffle.

"Nín!" the squat one snapped again.

Cole watched everyone around them with troubled eyes. "What are they saying?" he asked at last.

Ahnnie answered his question while staring at the scene, unable to take her eyes off of it. "I was seven or eight," she explained in a trembling voice. "Mom said something about grandma that I let slip while I was playing with my sister and cousins, and...and I can't remember what it was, but then grandma, my aunts, and my dad took it upon themselves to get the truth out of me."

She now realized what Cole meant when he said 'mirrors on mirrors on memories'; Envy was using things from her memories to try to 'know' her. First Maxwell Trevelyan, and now this...

"But she said it, didn't she?" her grandmother asked again. "Didn't she?"

The little girl pursed her lips and shook her head slowly.

The old woman bent down and gripped her by the shoulder. "Do you swear it? Do you swear upon the altar that you're telling us the truth?"

"You know what happens if you swear falsely!" the tall aunt chimed in.

Hesitance; then a slow, excruciating nod.

Ahnnie remembered this next part all too well. The first thing that came to mind when her grandmother smiled was that she looked like a witch, the evil kind that gobbled up children. "Then your mother is a liar, isn't she?"

Straining effort gave way to cracking pressure. The girl's lower lip trembled, then let out a whimper, and in a great hiccup of air, shuddered to life in a series of sobs. Tears streamed freely down the little cheeks as though suddenly released by floodgates, and the eyes from which they emanated squinted shut, unwilling to meet the cruel gazes of the woman standing in front of her.

"I knew it!" the squat aunt shrieked. "I knew she was too much of a coward–"

"No, she said it!" argued the tall aunt. "She's just using her daughter as a cover–"

"Who cares? In the end, she can't be trusted," the grandmother interrupted, rising up to her feet.

From the dining table, one of the children gripped its glass edge with as much patience as a frustrated five or six year old could muster. "Ba!" she cried out a moment later, mixing her English and Vietnamese in a stilted tongue. "Daddy! Tell them to stop bothering Chị Hai! I want to go home!"

The mustached man stirred to life at this plea and morosely nodded at the three women. "All right, that's enough," he grumbled, heading over to the crying child. "You know what happened now. I'm taking her home."

The child at the table immediately ran up to her father and sister. The other two children looked up, as if noticing everything for the first time. "Bye Khang, bye Phương," she said to them before rushing protectively over to her sister's side.

"Bye Tiên," they waved, their voices subdued. "See you tomorrow..."

The scene dimmed and the figures froze, leaving Ahnnie and Cole as the only sentient beings left in the room. Ahnnie then realized she had been watching the exchange with bated breath, and heaved a great inhalation of air to recompose herself.

"After all this time, it still brings up pain," Cole muttered, and Ahnnie whipped her gaze over to him. "Tight and endless, difficult questions–"

"Stop that," she snapped. "Stop reading my mind." _I didn't know he could do that._

"No," Cole shook his head. "Your pain. I hear peoples' pain–"

"Okay, whatever!" She turned away from him, lest she be tempted to knock that sullen face of his with the blunt end of her sword. Returning to the matter at hand, she was not sure the memory was completely over. _There was more to it, because it continued..._ She followed a sound up the stairs, hearing what seemed to be another familiar voice. At the top landing, she noticed one of the rooms had a light on, shining bright against the gloom.

"Are you going to follow it?" Cole asked from behind her, and she jolted in shock; either he had been really quiet, or he used that disappearing trick of his to sneak up behind her.

 _I wish he wasn't here,_ she lamented. _He's super creepy._ But then again, in these mazes of her own mind, did she really want to be alone? _Even he is better than nobody, I guess._

"I heard that," Cole reproached, and his drooping eyes appeared to droop even further.

Ahnnie opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. _Great. I have to watch what I think now – or at least, what I think of while in pain._ Mental, physical, emotional pain...she'd have to watch them all. "Sorry," she apologized, before making her way down the dark hallway to the lighted room.

* * *

Solas watched the clouds overhead whilst leaning leisurely against the door of the carriage. They were puffy and lazy, ambling slowly along to the warm breeze that blew across the courtyard. The masked driver on the seat above him stared absentmindedly at his surroundings, trying to pretend the elven mage was not just an arm's reach below him.

The group had been some time in the fortress now; for how long, Solas couldn't tell. What he could tell, however, was that he was feeling something close to boredom as he stood waiting for them to finish. Just because he put on mild airs, it did not mean that he was immune to such feelings from time to time. Had this been a normal day, he would have contented himself with his studies and musings, continually expanding or working on his knowledge of the Fade...or just doing whatever, as long as it was to his liking.

The guards called out to one another, breaking him out of his thoughts. He turned disinterestedly in their direction, looking at them only because they had made a noise. Then he frowned, and suddenly straightened, when he noticed something out of place – a strange essence, a peculiar song, unlike that of regular lyrium – and narrowed his eyes at a series of chests some of the guards were carrying into the fortress. But just when he thought that to be the full extent of it, he noticed something else just as alarming.

The guards were closing the gates.

The driver noticed this as well, and fidgeted in his seat. "Excusez-moi? There are still guests inside."

If the men heard him, they did not show it.

"Excusez-moi?" the driver called out again. "Did you not hear me?"

Solas opened a carriage door, reaching in with a discrete hand to slide out his staff.

"They are guests of Madame Vivienne!" the driver shouted just as the gates came to a full close. "First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchanter to the Imperial Court! This slight will not be forgotten!"

One of them finally paid attention to him, but not in the way he expected. With a nonchalant gesture, a guard withdrew a crossbow from his side and fired it at the driver, shooting him clean through the head. "A mage's lackey," he grunted as he put the crossbow away. "Hmph. That'll teach 'im to tout threats of mages in a Templar stronghold."

Another guard chuckled, but then pointed out the presence of an actual mage in the courtyard. "A bloody knife-ear at that," he added disgustedly.

"Right," the first guard nodded, and they headed over to the elf's side of the carriage to deal with him.

Solas only marveled at their stupidity as they wondered where he was, all the while he deftly snuck up on them from behind and blast spirit energy at their backs, bending the mana in such a way that the life was sucked out of them with nary a sound but the quiet thumps of their bodies as they fell to the ground. When he finished, he looked towards the fortress entrance, thin brows furrowing in suspicion.

Without a moment's hesitance, he strode towards the entrance. Almost immediately, the remaining guards stopped what they were doing and rushed for him, determined not to let him pass. He quickly did a head count of them – _seven –_ and whirled his staff in a channeling of mana that, when he brought the point down to the ground, sent another blast of spirit energy through the courtyard. His intent was not to kill this time, but to stun, yet when the wave of energy dissipated, not many of the guards were stunned quite as easily – and he believed he had used enough mana to overcome even the normal templar capabilities.

He turned his attention on those who appeared especially resistant to his magic and chanted some words under his breath. _Let us see how much I am capable of..._ He could feel the magic shimmering in the air as he cast another spell from his staff, the ancient power thrumming through his veins, and in one final, triumphant push, he expelled the energy at the templars rushing at him.

This energy was different from what he had cast earlier. It was stronger, forceful, penetrating – it filtered through the redness of their hearts until it struck their very core, damaging them irreparably. One by one, the guards faltered in their advance, until a moment later, they fell as laboriously as fallen trees.

The last one dropped to the ground, leaving Solas free to show himself into the Seeker fortress. _Not bad, considering how long it's been,_ he thought, flexing a hand. _  
_

As Solas advanced into the hall, he could hear a great clamor coming from what he believed to be the great hall, as well as from above a flight of stairs winding to his left. Above those stairs, he thought he recognized the distant sound of Blackwall's voice. But first, he approached a couple of chests sitting by a wall, picking out the one closest to him.

With the bottom of his staff, he flipped it open. Vials of a glowing red substance greeted his eyes. "Red lyrium," he murmured, and ran urgently up the stairs.

* * *

"Stay behind me!" Blackwall commanded to Lady Josephine, who readily obeyed.

Ser Barris met Captain Denam's charge, leaving Cassandra and Blackwall to face off his templar aids. The templars proved to be difficult opponents, fighting with a fury and strength that was almost superhuman. The Seeker and Warden found themselves pushed back with every assault, just barely keeping up with each forceful blow. At last, when Cassandra spied an open moment, she focused her abilities on the raging templar before her. _Fire in his blood, coursing through his veins–_

The templar roared and writhed in pain, which Cassandra regarded with a measure of satisfaction _._ Her Seeker abilities still appeared to be in working order, despite the templars' new ferocity. They would be difficult to implement in combat, though; she had mostly found the necessity of their use when interrogating, rather than fighting. To use it in that manner, she would have to divert a large majority of her focus.

She quickly cut the screaming templar down before he might recover and came to Blackwall's assistance. The Warden was holding well against his templar, although if the fight continued any longer, he might just wedge Josephine between his back and the wall. Cassandra dealt the templar a ringing blow through an open side at his back and together, the Seeker and Warden succeeded in pushing him back. Still, it took quite some effort, and it wasn't until they had forced him against one of the chairs that he stumbled over it and allowed Blackwall the opening required to plunge his blade through the torso.

That only left the crazed Knight-Captain; Ser Barris had not been faring as well, having been beaten back to the far side of the room by Captain Denam. He blocked each oncoming blow more feebly, and sweat beaded all over his brow.

"Do you not see?" Denam cried. "Red makes us superior! You could have had a share of the glory, but you refused the Elder One!" With a ferocious swipe, Captain Denam knocked the sword clean out of Ser Barris' hand. "Prepare to face the consequences of your foolishness..."

"Barris!" Cassandra shouted.

The Knight-Templar closed his eyes, sensing his defeat. But just before the final blow could be dealt, a wintry crackling chilled the air in front of him. He opened his eyes a moment later to find the Knight-Captain frozen over, and scrambled to his feet before the ice burst into pieces and a followup blast of spirit energy rendered Denam unconscious.

"I thought you might need my assistance," Solas remarked as he came into the room.

Ser Barris looked bewilderingly at the mage. "How did you–"

"By doing what I had to," Solas finished dryly, before bending down to check the Knight-Captain's pulse.

"Is he still alive?" Cassandra asked.

Solas nodded. "But barely – I used more magic than was necessary. If we use a healing elixir, he may survive."

"If he even deserves it," Ser Barris spat.

Cassandra regarded the armored figure lying on the ground. "We will heal him," she then decided. "Then we will judge him after we find his master."

"Very well." Solas reached into a bag at his belt and opened a vial of the said elixir, tipping it gently into Captain Denam's open mouth.

Ser Barris knelt down beside the elf as he worked and picked off a ring of keys from the Knight Captain's belt. "Here, these are his keys," he said, tossing them over to Cassandra. "I would question the Lord Seeker about this...'Elder One'."

" _And_ the use of red lyrium," Solas added, tracing a veiny red pattern on the Captain's face. "It would appear that the templars have been using it in lieu of regular lyrium."

Ser Barris looked uncomfortable, but he was interrupted before he had a chance to speak.

"Lady Ahnnie!" Josephine cried out, apparently having regained her wits. "She is alone with the Lord Seeker!"

Cassandra cursed, suddenly remembering that fact. "Someone must stand guard over the Knight-Captain while the rest of us go to find her."

Solas volunteered for that duty, and Josephine was ordered to stay with him for her safety. They barricaded the doorway of the room as best as they could, with Solas positioned to meet any oncoming threat should it arrive, before Cassandra, Blackwall, and Ser Barris felt comfortable enough to head for the Lord Seeker's office. Along the way, they could hear the battle cries of the fighting templars echoing from the hall below them.

* * *

The scene changed again to the living room of a different house. The sound of two children crying was what met her ears first, followed by a reproachful female voice.

"How could you let her say that about me?" the voice was admonishing in Vietnamese. "You should have known better!"

Ahnnie's jaw tightened. _Mom,_ she thought.

The oldest child sobbed harder. "Mẹ, con xin lỗi – I'm sorry, Mommy!"

The younger child gripped onto the mother's sleeve in a desperate plea. "Mommy please, please don't go! It was a mistake! It won't happen again!"

The woman withdrew her arm in a dramatic sweep and started weeping into the couch. "First my own mother and sisters, and now my daughters? I can't handle this any longer!"

"Mẹ!" the oldest child cried again.

From behind the couch, a man with hawkish features stood cradling a baby boy, whose face was scrunched in preparation for a fresh onslaught of crying – the scene before him was distressing him immensely. The man himself was engaged in the same theatrics, wailing and tearing up and adding more fuel to the distraught woman's fire. "Don't do this – they're just little children! They were influenced by that side of the family; they didn't know any better!"

 _Dramatic pansy,_ Ahnnie spat, the bile rising to her throat.

"Of course, it's because they love _them,_ and not me!" the woman added.

"You stupid bitch," Ahnnie cursed, though she knew the memory phantoms wouldn't hear her, much less respond. Shortly after that debacle in her grandmother's house, her father dropped them off at their mother's for the regular two day visit. Halfway through what was supposed to have been an enjoyable evening, one of the aunts phoned her mother and set off the bomb that was the disaster playing before her.

Cole looked at Ahnnie, his expression indiscernible. "She wanted to go away," he then said, reading the pain from her yet again. "She wanted to leave, and never see you again until you were grown."

"She was being dramatic," Ahnnie interjected. "Trying to make us hate 'that side' of the family while making us more loyal to her. It would've done us a lot of good if she just followed through with what she said." Her eyes narrowed on the man, still sniveling in that disgustingly pathetic manner of his. "Bastard," was all she could ground out as she watched his face.

"Do you love your mother, or do you not?" the man then asked the children, holding desperately onto the baby boy. "Do you still want to see your brother again?"

"Yes!" they cried.

"Then don't talk to those people anymore! They hate your mother – they brought her to ruin, destroying her businesses, stealing her money!"

Ahnnie slapped her sword back into its scabbard to grip her head with both hands. "Oh my god! Is there no way to make you _shut up_?"

"I didn't say anything," Cole protested.

"No–" She waved a frustrated hand at the hawkish man. "Him – my stepdad!" She began to pace about the room in an agitated manner. "There must be some way out – _I'm_ the one who can't take this anymore!" Perhaps there was some door, some exit to this torture. If Envy's plan was to aggravate her, then it was working. "Through here," she called out to Cole when she opened what was supposed to have been the garage door.

But instead of a garage, they came into a small room with wooden paneling all around. Ahnnie looked confusedly about her, and at the forms of her twelve-year-old self and her ten-year-old sister, dressed in formal outfits and sitting quietly in upholstered chairs. _What is this?_ she thought, trying to remember...

Her father appeared in the doorway a short moment later, his sad eyes fixated on them. Ahnnie's throat caught. "No, it can't be–"

"Your mother has full custody now," he said, his voice low.

Neither child said a word. The younger one, however, was pursing her lips tightly.

"Since you've decided to go with her, I won't contest it any further."

"No!" Ahnnie cried.

He gazed upon them a little longer, trying to see if it would elicit any responses; but the girls kept their eyes on the walls, not daring to speak. "Just remember that I love you," he said at last, before disappearing from the doorway.

" _No!_ " Ahnnie shouted again. "You should have fought harder for us!" She tried to grab her father's arm, but her hand went through it as though through a hologram. "Ba! Đừng đi mà! _Ba!_ "

Cole grabbed her back. "It's not real," he reminded her. "It's only a remnant of what was real."

She rudely jerked her hand out of his grasp, but had to acknowledge what he said was true. Regardless, tears sprung from her eyes as she looked at her younger self maintaining a blank face, while that of her sister's threatened to give way to crying.

"I was horrible to him," she choked. "I said everything mom told me to say to him, hurtful things–" She squinted her eyes and wiped them with the back of her hand. She was surprised to hear herself admitting this to a complete stranger; it was not even something she had put much thought into until she saw it happening again, as vividly as the first time. "He wasn't all that great, but at least – at least he was better than her. We should have chosen him instead..."

" **Because of what happened next?** "

Ahnnie stopped crying. Before she could wonder where Envy's voice was coming from, her twelve-year-old self slipped out of the chair and walked over to her and Cole, eyes glowing green and mouth curved into a malevolent smile.

She immediately backed up next to Cole. "How did you follow us here?" she demanded.

" **I am everywhere** ," Envy said. " **And I will know everything.** "

The room around them darkened until the glowing green points of Envy's eyes were all they could see. Ahnnie drew out her sword again, wary of an eerie sursurrus whispering around them.

"What's happening?" she asked, and then suddenly Cole melted away from her. "C-Cole!" she stuttered, trying to grab him back. He seemed shocked as well, but could do nothing as his visage faded away into the darkness. " _Cole!_ "

Envy chuckled. " **You won't need him where you're going...** "

* * *

They met with red templars not less than a few moments after leaving Solas and Josephine. Those templars were engaged in combat with other templars, others who had refused corruption and were desperately trying to flee. Taking the advantage of surprise, Cassandra guided Ser Barris and Blackwall into flanking positions that crept upon the red templars from behind.

The red templars whirled around in surprise, suddenly outnumbered six to three. Even so, they fought savagely, and proved to be more than either side could handle; with the regular templars almost exhausted, and Cassandra, Barris, and Blackwall fresh out of a recent fight, they were all soon pushed back into a retreating position on one side of the hall.

"Maker's breath," Blackwall hissed as he received a cut to the upper arm. He drew back accordingly and parried an incoming blow, favoring his injured arm. "Is there no stopping these brutes? They fight like three men to each one!"

"It's the red lyrium," Ser Barris gasped. "The Lord Seeker made us take it, but a number of us were wary of something so different–" He grunted as he took a blow to his side from one of the red templars' shields. "It changed our commanders, making them more violent – more paranoid."

Cassandra pushed against her assailant's blade, and then cried, "Any who are templars, stand back!"

"What for?" one of the templars on their side asked.

"Just listen to me!" Noting Ser Barris' withdrawal from the combat, she turned to Blackwall. "Cover for me," she instructed him, and the Warden nodded back at her.

It would be too much for Blackwall to hold off three of these templars at once, so she had to work quickly. Drawing on her inner energies, she focused on the three templars before her. With a steadying breath, she tapped into their bloodstreams, listening to the song that coursed through their veins – a noticeably different song, more aggressive and heated – and set it on fire.

It achieved the desired effect, although not as thoroughly as she hoped. The templars went wild with pain, howling like madmen, and fought even madder. Cassandra discerned an instability to their performance, however, and rallied the templars behind them to charge forward. "Push with everything you have!" she commanded. "And no matter what you do, do _not_ hesitate!"

With a rallying cry, the men obeyed her, diving in for the kill. Regardless of whether the red templars had been their brothers-in-arms, their companions in the mess hall and fellow colleagues, they cut them down now like livestock in the slaughtering pen. With that valiant push forward, they were able to regain their position, and even successfully break down the red templars' stance. Ser Barris dealt the first kill, knocking a red templar over the side of the balustrade; he fell to his death with a _crack_ on the stone floor below. A fellow templar followed through with a spearing stab through a red templar's gut, and Blackwall aided the other two in cornering the last enemy before knocking off his helmet and slicing through his neck.

"Are you all right?" Blackwall panted as he looked over to Cassandra.

She nodded in affirmative to him, though she could feel the beginnings of weariness course through her arms. The Warden must have noticed how little she fought in that push, dealing only assistant blows rather than any kills. _I must watch how I use that ability,_ she thought, gripping her sword a little tighter. _Damn it, if I had known, I would have practiced–_

"Thank you, Seeker," Ser Barris said, interrupting her thoughts. "Without that, we might not have made it."

She nodded to him. Then, turning to the normal templars, she asked them, "What is the situation below?"

The templars looked at each other, before looking over to her. "It's madness, Seeker," one of them said. "The red ones – they've overrun the great hall. They called us in and locked it to...to..." He shook his head. "We were among those who managed to escape."

Cassandra waved the matter away. "I understand. Are there any more of your brethren who are not corrupted?"

The templar who had been speaking to her gulped. "I'm afraid not, Seeker."

"At least, not that we know of right now," another one added.

She watched their weary faces in turn. One was bleeding from a cut to the head, and the two others were sweaty and haggard. She guessed they too were harboring injuries, just ones she couldn't see, and did not wonder that they had been locked in combat with the red templars for too long. "We need to find the Lord Seeker," she said at last, "and we will need your help. As soon as this is done, we promise to find you aid."

They looked wearily from Cassandra to Ser Barris and Blackwall, but did not deny her.

"What other choice do we have?" the first one said. "It's that, or die at their hands. We'll go with you."

Ser Barris nodded and led the way. "Come; we must also find the Herald."

There were no objections to that, either.

* * *

Solas tensed as he heard the muffled sound of fighting from beyond the door, but relaxed a moment later when he realized it wasn't going to come to their side. He thought the barricade of chairs a little lacking, however, and reinforced it with crystalline ice.

Lady Josephine watched him with wary eyes but refused to fixate on anything else. What else was there to look at? Besides the Seeker tapestry, all the furniture was stacked up by the door, and there were two dead men – actually, one dead, one near death – lying on the floor. The place was the exact opposite of relaxing and gnawed bitterly away on the Inquisition ambassador's nerves.

"You can trust me," Solas said after a while, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I'm not going to freeze you over."

Lady Josephine jolted. "I wasn't thinking that," she protested. "I was merely trying to distract myself."

"Hmm." Solas stood back to admire his handiwork. "It would seem that violence does not suit you."

"Of course it doesn't; I am a diplomat, remember?"

"Yes, of course..." Solas turned back around and sat by Knight-Captain Denam's head again. Josephine decided to stand, not wishing to share space with anyone who might not be living any longer in the next minute. The Knight-Captain's breathing seemed steady, however, after the elven mage gave him that healing draught.

How the day had changed! If she had known it would be anything like this, she would have sent a refusal in response to the Lord Seeker's letter. Then again, how often was it that military organizations threatened mutiny on themselves and their guests in the middle of a great capital city? If it was in some place like Therinfal Redoubt, for example, then maybe she could see the possibility of a trap like this. But in Val Royeaux? Either the Lord Seeker was now a madman, or a wildly daring tactician.

"What do you think the Lord Seeker _really_ wanted to do with Lady Ahnnie?" she asked after a while, unnerved by the silence.

Solas looked up at her with a grim expression. "My lady, if it is anything like we've seen today, my guess is that his aim was to kill her."

Her breath caught. "No! No, that can't–"

"We cannot be sure," Solas interrupted her. "I have been thinking it over, and there might be a way to confirm if–"

"What is that way?" she cut in. "You must use it! You must not let her die!"

He paused again. "May I finish?"

Josephine blinked. "I apologize..."

"There might be a way to confirm if the deed has been done," he continued. "As we all know, Lady Ahnnie is not the best fighter. If the Lord Seeker were to turn on her, it would only be a matter of minutes before she is slain."

Josephine pursed her lips, having no choice but to accept what he said as true. _And if she is slain, so will be the Inquisition's aims –_ for without the Herald, how could they stop the Breach as promised? _Oh Josephine, how could you be so foolish?_

"It will require absolute silence," Solas said. "You need not worry for your own safety – this should take but a few minutes, and I've ensured that the door is properly barricaded."

"Do what you must," she nodded, sinking down to her knees across from him. "I will watch over the Knight-Captain for you."

Solas nodded. "Very well." And then he closed his eyes...

* * *

"I miss Ba," Tiên sniffled.

"Shh, you don't want them to hear you," Ahnnie shushed; normally, she would have reprimanded her sister for having such thoughts. After all, the only one who cared was their mother; right? But today, she was sensitive to her sister's feelings. And she knew what would happen should those feelings become public knowledge.

Their mother and stepfather strode proudly into the room a moment later. Ahnnie perked up, putting on a smile, but Tiên's face was still downcast.

"Finally! I knew I would win," their mother beamed.

"Of course; you're the better parent," their stepfather added.

"Now you don't have to see him anymore," their mother smiled back – a wide, full-toothed smile, full of rewards and promises.

Their brother, now five, came up to them, looking beseechingly into their faces. "You're not going away anymore," he said, "because he can't take you away; that's good, right?" Then he noticed Tiên. "Chị Tiên? Is something wrong?"

Almost immediately, their mother zeroed in on the moping girl. "Are you upset about something?" she asked. "Did _that man_ say something to you?" She knelt down to face Tiên, and the little girl stiffened. "Tell me – did he say anything that bothered you?"

Tiên shook her head. "He didn't."

"Then why are you crying?"

Ahnnie's face blanched, as well as their little brother's. "Bình, come here," she gestured quietly to the little boy, and he scampered over in obedience. She rose from the chair, aiming to exit the room with him, to leave Tiên alone to the impending wrath like the coward she was–

"I miss Ba," Tiên whimpered again.

It was like a volcano erupted. One moment, their mother was all sweets and smiles; the next, she was a raging bull, an angry banshee – she was everything that terrified them in that moment, but she was not their mother.

"Why would you miss him!? I've done _everything_ for you! How could you be so ungrateful!? What more can you want from me now!?"

Tiên sobbed. "I won't see Ba anymore! I won't get to see Khang and Phương!"

"You don't need them!" their mother shrieked. "You have me, you have your sister and brother!"

Young Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip, and Bình covered his ears. The stepfather herded them out of the doorway and into a separate room. Before he closed the door, though, they could hear the enraged woman scream, "You're no daughter of mine, if you still care for that _bastard_!"

Bình started to cry, and Ahnnie hugged him close. "Shh, it's okay," she coaxed. "It'll be over soon..."

"How could your sister be so selfish?" the stepfather asked a moment later, putting on distraught airs once again. "It's already been done! She's already chosen! Don't you agree?"

Ahnnie pursed her lips, but nodded anyway.

"Come here," her stepfather then demanded.

She blinked. "But–"

"Come _here_." His voice was stern.

Reluctantly, she released her arms from her younger brother, and came up to the man. "Yes?"

He drew her into his lap and cradled her with his arms. She stiffened; something was different about this hug. Something that she wasn't sure would be good, for some reason. "Bình, go play with your legos," he told the little boy.

With a naive sniff, Bình went off to do as he was told, occupied a moment later with the little lego toys on the floor.

"Um...what's going on?" Ahnnie asked, feeling his hot breath course down her neck.

He gave his answer a moment later with a shove of his hand down her body. Before she could protest, he whispered into her ear. "You chose this, remember? And now, there's **no going back...** "

" _No!_ " Ahnnie screamed, struggling with all her might against Envy's illusion. "Let me go! You can't make me–"

" **Tsk, tsk, tsk,** " Envy tutted. " **That wasn't what you said.** "

Ahnnie coughed as she found herself once again deposited in darkness. A sickening feeling swirled in her stomach as she felt the vivacity of the illusion – Envy practically forced her to relive it, to feel and see everything just as she had on that day. _I can't do this anymore,_ she thought, on the verge of sobbing. _No more, I can't..._

" **So soon? But there's more!** "

A door creaked open ahead of her and she looked up to see a bedroom bathed in moonlight. She gasped when she saw it and closed her eyes, refusing to look at what went on inside – a moment later, she shut her ears, refusing to listen to the tinny sound of her own whimpering echoing from the door. But regardless of how she tried to shield herself, she could feel the intrusions on her own person. The humiliation, the pain, the degradation...

" **What a twist of irony, that he should wait until you were old enough** ," Envy mused.

 _He was a cunning bastard,_ Ahnnie remembered. _He did everything else and purposefully waited until I was eighteen for_ that _to push the fact that I was 'consenting'._ She squinted her eyes tighter. _I hate him so much..._

The darkness dissipated around her to become yet again another living room, but this time of their present house. Another explosive argument was erupting between Tiên and their mother again, albeit this time, things were turning more against the stepfather's favor.

"If you actually loved us, you would have left that asshole a long time ago!" Tiên yelled. She was now eighteen, rebellious and frustrated. "He's a jerk and a bully, even to his own kid!"

Thirteen-year-old Bình sat quietly on the sofa, staring down at the rug beneath the coffee table. Ahnnie herself stood subdued by the piano, frowning angrily at the hardwood below.

 _I remember this,_ she thought as she watched herself, and then her sister and her mother. _This was when I thought of telling Mom about what he was doing to me..._

"What would you have me do, huh?" their mother shot back. "I'm up to my neck in paperwork and debts, trying to keep you all afloat! Haven't I taught you how to defend yourselves? Save me some of that trouble!"

"Save you? Oh, _save you_ that trouble?" Tiên shook her head, her glance incredulous. "Listen to yourself. That's not a mother talking. That's a–"

"I command you, with the power the spirits have given me!"

"Oh my god, do you even _hear_ yourself? You sound like a lunatic!"

"I am their chosen god!" she shouted.

"You _failed_ to protect us! You married this jerk because he said he was some rich dude back in Vietnam, and then you just let him leech onto us like a parasite!"

"That's not true!" Her mother's face was getting redder.

"Yes, it _is,_ " Tiên shot back. "Don't lie, okay? After you married him, everything's been going downhill. We've been poor, we've been living off of debts, you've been crazy, and at times we live like kings, because _you've_ been committing fraud against a whole bunch of people."

The mother's eyes narrowed at her youngest daughter, the implication palpable in the air. "Fine," she barked at last. "Since you want him out so badly, I'll do it – I'll kick him out–"

Bình pursed his lips and shot up off the couch. Ahnnie watched herself tense, then follow him, stopping near him at a spot by the staircase.

"You okay?" she asked him gently.

He shook his head, trying his best to stifle the oncoming tears. "I don't want him to go," the boy ground out. "He's my dad, and I still love him."

She remembered her heart sinking at this response. _Of course he loves him,_ she had thought. _He's the only other parental figure_ _ _Bình_ 's ever known. If he goes now, Bình will be devastated. _She remembered thinking about her brother's performance in school and the stress of family pressures added onto academic ones. "I'll talk to Mom," she then said. "I'll do my best to convince her to keep him, and Tiên as well, I guess..."

"Will you?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Mom listens to me, remember?"

 _Because I'm the good kid,_ Ahnnie thought disdainfully. _Because I'm obedient and nice and gentle..._

A cold hand suddenly clasped around hers. She whirled around in alarm. "Cole!" she cried, and impulsively hugged him.

He gave a start, but pat her on the back anyway.

"Where were you?" she demanded once she withdrew from him.

"Trying to find you," he replied, much to Envy's chagrin.

" **As if you can do anything to help,** " the demon spat.

Cole frowned beneath his hat and pulled on Ahnnie's hand. "This way," he said, his voice urgent. "You can't stay in this place any longer–"

"You can say that again!" she agreed, and followed his lead. They disappeared through an open coat closet, but Envy wasn't finished with them.

" **You have not escaped yet! I _will_ know you!**"

"Don't listen to it," Cole warned her. "It does it to–"

But Ahnnie gasped as the white tile floor beneath them became awash with blood. Cole noticed it as well and paused before he could step into it. Ahnnie froze, as if suddenly paralyzed; then she slowly looked up, following a pathetic weeping sound up to a bloody girl crying by the toilet, holding up a small fleshy object in her palms.

And of course, that girl was her. The memory came flooding back through her consciousness like an unwanted assault; nineteen years old, just past the cusp of adulthood, suffering a miscarriage fathered by none other than–

Envy chuckled. " **Did I not tell you? And now if I – or rather, _you_ – remember correctly...this took place not longer than several moons before you crossed worlds.** "

She shook her head. _No, I don't want to think about it. I don't, I don't, I don't..._

" **No matter how you try to deny it, it** **happened,** " Envy said. " **Oh, and watch the next part. You throw the fetus into the toilet–** "

" _H_ _e_!" Ahnnie shouted. "It was a 'he'!"

Envy sounded amused. " **And how did you know that?** "

Ahnnie let go of Cole's hand and sank to her knees. "I just did. The whole entire time, up until I aborted..."

" **Weren't you relieved?** "

She peered into the phantom of her weeping visage, marveling absentmindedly at how strange it was to see herself from another point of view. "Yes," she admitted, "and no..."

"Broken and empty, devoid of all meaning," Cole intoned from behind her. "A loss that no one knows, that no one _can_ know of. It must be endured, hidden." She let it pass this time.

The weeping Ahnnie froze and the scene around them dimmed. " **What a poor, pathetic creature...d** **on't worry. I will make you great.** "

Ahnnie looked up, suddenly aware of a gentle caressing on her cheek. It came from Maxwell Trevelyan, standing just above the bloody girl and fetus.

" **It need not be this way. You don't have to resist; why be so foolish? Spare yourself the pain...** "

Cole snapped back to awareness. "No, don't listen to what it says–"

" **Do you want to live like that? Do you want to continue being someone's slave, sacrificing your own life for another's selfish whims?** "

Somehow, Envy struck a chord within her. "No," she replied, "no I don't..."

" **Of _course_ you don't,** " Maxwell smiled. " **You desire greatness. _I_ can give you greatness. With my power, you can rule as you've never done before; stomp on those who would see you trodden!**"

And somehow, that seemed satisfying.

Cole tried to tug on her, but she wouldn't budge. "Don't give in, don't listen–"

" **Silence!** " Maxwell roared, lunging at Cole. The young man gasped as his collar was grabbed. " **You're nothing but a dissenting voice, flailing against the darkness, the inevitable!** "

"Dark and desperate, death to make yourself alive," Cole ground out, responding to riddles with yet more riddles. "I used to be like you. I'm not anymore. You shouldn't be, either."

But it wasn't that that finally broke Ahnnie out of her trance. It was a ringing voice she'd grown to know; the voice of a friend, a mentor, an elder.

" _Ahnnie!_ " it cried out, and she whirled around to find its source.

Her eyes widened with joy. "Solas!"

* * *

 **A/N:**

Có phải không? - Isn't that right?

Nói đi! - Say it!

Con đừng có giấu gì hết nhe - Don't you dare hide anything (using the pronouns of an adult speaking to a child)

Nín! - Quiet!

Chị Hai - Oldest sister

Chị - Older sister, in general

Mẹ - Mother

Đừng đi mà! - (But) Don't go!

If you're curious about pronunciations, I suggest you plug the words into Google Translate, which now has an accurate Vietnamese voice (for the northern accent, however, and Ahnnie is southern - please keep that in mind). I'm just too lazy to do it here, plus reading it only goes so far towards sounding like the actual thing :P. If you have to manually type in the words, I suggest turning on the input method (the little 'e' on the lower left) and choosing the word with the right marks as it comes up. Oh, and disregard whatever English translations that pop up. Those are NOT accurate at all.

And yes, I've taken great liberties with the companion's abilities. I got info on them from the DA wiki and just fleshed 'em out a little more here. I hope that's okay for y'all.


	20. Chapter 18

"Up there!"

"Stop them!"

Ser Barris immediately looked over the balustrade and saw the red templars who had spotted them. "Blast it," he cursed. They had gone for some time unmolested now, crossing yet another open hall, and were so close to the Lord Seeker's Office!

The three templars with them tensed and prepared their stances, anticipating yet another hard battle. Blackwall shifted the weight of his sword to his other hand, trying to ignore the cut on his arm; Cassandra brought out her shield in a defensive position, still not quite recovered from her abilities. They could try to ignore the threat and rush for the office, but then that would leave them disadvantaged in a smaller room and easily cornered.

"Stand ready," Cassandra commanded, hoping to bolster their resolve with the hardness of her voice.

Heavy footsteps echoed louder and louder up the stairs; swords were drawn in a steely squeal of metal, and a bark of angry voices confirmed their location directly up ahead. Several seconds later, the gleam of metal armor appeared right around the bend.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, trying to see if she could count the men rushing at them. _Five,_ she thought in dismay – just one short of their own number, but with what they experienced so far, it would be more than enough to do them in.

Beside her, Blackwall was suddenly distracted with something from the corner of his eye. She didn't take much notice of it, although she was slightly disappointed in him for allowing himself to get distracted in such a crucial moment. Then a moment later, she was able to tell why.

" _Woooohoooo!_ "

The jubilant cry, so out of place in the gloomy fortress, especially with the red templar threat, jarred all of their senses uncomfortably. Ser Barris couldn't help but look to see what it was, and Cassandra confessed to a sidelong glance in that direction as well. What she saw made her fully turn to gape in confusion.

"Woooooop yeah! Eat _that_ , ya big shite!"

A young blonde girl was swinging up-side down from the heavy chandelier in the ceiling, holding a bow in her hands and loosing several arrows in the red templars' direction. One of them took an arrow through his visor while his companions managed to swerve around him and avoid the incoming missiles. Below her, a templar archer emerged on the scene and took aim at the chandelier; when it swung over his head, an arrow came down from it and killed him instead. As the chandelier swung back closer to the balustrade, the girl let loose another arrow that took a red templar on the back.

Cassandra shook her head. "Charge!" she barked, ready to take the advantage so abruptly given to them.

The six of them met the remaining four red templars head on, bracing themselves for the coming impact. Neither of them took note of what the archer on the chandelier was doing anymore; they focused on the combat instead, hacking away with just as much abandon as their enemies. Cassandra knew that the archer was still working, though, when she saw several more arrows studding the back of one of the red templars. But it wasn't until the archer flipped right-side up and held the templar's neck in a scissor lock with her legs, dragging and dropping him over the balustrade, that he was finally finished.

In an acrobatic somersault, the archer released herself from the chandelier, flipped over the balustrade, and landed deftly behind them. Her arrows, still intact thanks to the quiver design, were immediately put to use as soon as her feet touched the ground. Thus, they were given the bonus of a long-distance auxiliary fighter.

Blackwall rammed his blade through a red templar's gut, doing his best to ignore the shield that bashed him on the side of the head. With a great push, he bowled the templar into the path of his colleagues, pushing them back at once and leaving them prime targets for the phalanx consisting of Ser Barris and the three uncorrupted templars. When they pulled back after a brief clash, the archer loosed another volley, and then they grouped together again with Seeker Cassandra for another assault.

Whoever this archer was, she was able to read the patterns of battle and work in tandem with those in front of her; she was careful enough not to misfire on friendly forces, but fast enough to shoot through gaps at the enemies. _She is skilled,_ Cassandra had to admit.

And with her help, they pushed and pulsed on the enemy templars until they had the lot of them cornered against the balustrade. It was still amazing, how resilient these corrupted templars were; one of them had arrows protruding through his torso, and the other a bad cut on his flank, and yet were still resisting just as fiercely as before. Cassandra held up her shield and bashed the first of them over the balustrade, followed by Ser Barris and another templar. Ser Barris had some difficulty with his, but an arrow to the neck facilitated the fall a moment later.

When they finished, Cassandra turned around to look at their new colleague. _An elf,_ she was astonished to discover from the pointed ears jutting between the shaggy blonde bob. "Who are you?" the Seeker had to ask.

"It's obvious, innit?" the elf asked back.

"No, I'm afraid it is not."

The elf rolled her eyes. "Ugh, really now?" she groaned. "Can't tell between people fightin' _with_ you or _against_ you? I'm a friend, duh!"

Blackwall came up to them and swore. "Maker – it's Sera!"

She looked at him. "Hey, Blacky-beard!"

"Black _wall_ ," he corrected her.

Cassandra stared at Sera in disbelief. " _You're_ Sera?"

"Yeah, and you're the Seeker Lady," Sera grinned.

Cassandra looked from Blackwall and back to Sera, then shook her head. "How did you know to come here?"

"So I got friends, yeah? They told me Lord Lucy-pants was meetin' with the Herald today."

The Seeker frowned. "Lord Seeker _Lucius_."

"Whatever!" Sera exclaimed, then continued, "I thought, 'innit weird? He hates her guts!' So I went to check it out n' saw some baddies dead out front. Figured something smelled fishy, so here I am."

Ser Barris peered over Cassandra's shoulder to look at the elf, then turned questioningly to the Seeker. "Is she trustworthy?" he asked, his voice apprehensive.

"Hey, I helped you, okay?" Sera shot back, startling the templar.

Cassandra sighed. "We will have to put up with her for now. We don't have the time to debate her presence." Turning to Sera with a gesture at the red templars below, she asked, "I don't suppose you're the only one who's noticed the trouble?"

"I sent word to some friends," Sera told her. "They'll be comin' round soon."

 _Maker's breath._ If they were anything like Sera...but Cassandra had to admit how welcome the news seemed. _Let us hope these 'friends' are good enough against the corrupted templars._ "All right; no more dallying. We must continue on our way."

Cassandra was aware of the glances the templars sent Sera's way, but contented herself with the fact that the elf had been useful. Of more concern were the injured in their party; some of the templars had sustained new cuts, while Blackwall appeared to be getting a little pale. Still, he carried himself stoically, bearing his pains with gruff dignity.

Sera fell into step beside him and peered curiously at his beard. "Look at you, all serious," she mused. "You're not a Seeker, or a Templar – what're you again?"

"A Grey Warden," Blackwall replied, eyeing her strangely.

"Ah, those. What do Wardens do when there's no Blight, anyway?"

"Whatever it takes to keep the world safe," he answered gruffly.

She tilted her head in curiosity. "Like, join Inquisitions?"

Blackwall shrugged. "If that's what's necessary. Hey, you're here, too."

"She's _what_?" Ser Barris asked incredulously.

"Ignore it," Cassandra commanded him.

Sera looked at the Seeker's back and made a face. "The Inquisition can't be all broody beards like you and the Seeker Lady," she complained.

"Cassandra doesn't have the hair for it," he assured her.

"Oh, I bet she does," Sera giggled. "Places."

Some of the templars found this amusing and snickered. Cassandra, on the other hand, grew red in the face and clenched the hilt of her sword tighter. "That's enough!" she barked, and the templars immediately shut up.

"Knew it," Sera smirked, and giggled again.

 _Ugh..._ The Seeker shook her head in exasperation. She was thus grateful for the appearance of the Lord Seeker's door a moment later. The corridor was empty, thankfully enough. But when Ser Barris tried to open the door, he found it locked tight.

"Blast it all," he cursed. "How could I have forgotten–"

"Just let me do it." Sera pushed through the templars and Seeker and bent down by the doorknob. Withdrawing a pin from behind an ear, she inserted and twisted it into the keyhole. After a few seconds, there was a satisfying _click_ , and she stepped back proudly.

Ser Barris opened the newly unlocked door and gave her an uncomfortable look. "Thank you, I suppose..."

"Pfft. You're friggin' welcome."

The group filed inside. They each unsheathed or readied their weapons as they entered the room, having spotted the Lord Seeker standing behind his desk. But what alarmed them the most was the sight of the Herald lying unconscious on the desk, head turned to the side and hair splayed over the wood in a dark curtain. The Lord Seeker had a hand on the the base of her neck, around her collarbone.

"Lord Seeker Lucius!" Cassandra barked. "Step away from the Herald – now!"

He appeared ignorant to this command, continuing to run his hand along the girl's collarbone and then up her neck. When his fingers touched her cheek, he looked up to regard the people gathered in the room. "Well," he mused. "So you've made it."

"Step away," Cassandra repeated. " _Now_."

The Lord Seeker chuckled. "Why so brash? Can't we just have a...talk?"

"That's not what you've been having with the Herald, apparently," Blackwall said, his eyes glaring at Ahnnie's prone form.

"Oh, it's _never_ too late to talk things out," Lucius interjected. "Six swords to one man; who in their right mind would fight back?" He then held up a dagger in his other hand. "There is always room for negotiation..." With a pointed look, he placed the blade's point in the hollow of the girl's neck.

 _By the Maker,_ Cassandra swore. _How he has changed!_ "What is it you want, then?" she asked, wary of the dagger's point so close to the Herald's skin.

The Lord Seeker shook his head. "You wouldn't understand." He turned back to the Herald, and everyone feared for a moment that he would stab her – instead, he hefted her limp body in his arms, the dagger kept across her lolling neck. "And you won't _need_ to. Very soon, there won't be any of you left to understand anything." With a brash kick, he opened the big window behind him, letting in a great gust of wind that flickered the flames in the hearth and sent papers flying about the room.

Ser Barris sucked in a breath. "Lord Seeker, please reconsider–"

"Reconsider! Now you're begging me?" He kept his back to the window, facing them once again. Then he took a step backwards.

"Oi!" Sera shouted, alarmed. "Whaddyou think you're doing!?"

The Lord Seeker noticed her for the first time. "Only what needs to be done," he responded cryptically.

"Bloody _bastard_ ," Blackwall spat. "If you dare take another step–"

Lucius laughed, and did just that. "What can you do to stop me?"

Cassandra's grip on the hilt was so tight, her knuckles whitened beneath her gloves. "Lord Seeker Lucius," she ground out, "have you gone mad?"

He turned from the Warden and tilted his head curiously at her. "Perhaps I have." Then, with one last devious smile, he pushed back with a foot and launched himself out the window, bearing the Herald with him.

" _No_!" Cassandra shouted, but it was too late.

* * *

Solas cast a white light with his staff that momentarily blinded the entire scene, like a great flash of lightning; when the light died away, Ahnnie blinked through the spots in her eyes to find that Maxwell had released Cole and was doubling over on the ground. The demon was displeased with the turn of events, as its incensed hissing indicated.

" **Y** **ou!** " Envy cried. " **Blasted elf–** "

Ahnnie looked at Solas. "Wait, you know Envy?"

Solas pulled her to her feet while watching the demon carefully. "We've crossed paths several times, in the Fade." His eyes narrowed. "Usually to its disadvantage."

Envy hissed again. " **Not this time, elf! The Elder One will triumph, one way or another.** "

"I'd like to see him try."

Ahnnie frowned. "You know who the Elder One is, too?"

But Solas gave her arm a brief squeeze that she took to be a discrete warning. She then decided to stop asking questions, though they still raced crazily through her mind. _Wait...if I'm in my own mind right now...then how is it I'm still thinking?_

Solas interrupted those thoughts with an urgent push. "I must get you out of here." He swept a worried gaze over the scene before him, at the frozen girl and the fetus, and the white tiled bathroom. " _Telamdys,_ " he cursed. "I had no idea it was something this serious..." He turned to her. "Envy has been trying to bring you down with bad memories. You must counter them with good memories; only in that way can you break its bind."

Ahnnie's face blanched. "So you saw all of...?"

"That is not important right now," he snapped. He let go of her and pushed her again in the direction of the bathroom door. "Run."

She looked back at him, desperate. "But what about you?"

"Never mind me! Focus on good memories, and take back control of your mind!"

Cole was at her side a moment later, surprising her yet again. "He is right. Here, I'll go with you."

She looked into the young man's slanting eyes, then back at Solas. Seeing no objections from the elf, she decided Cole was not so bad after all and clasped his cold, clammy hand once more. "Thanks," she said, and opened the bathroom door. Together, they raced out of it and into the winding corridors of her head.

* * *

"Now that we're alone..." Solas turned his attention back on the demon. "I do hope you're regretting this right now."

" **Bah!** " Envy spat, rising slowly to its feet. Its form was beginning to distort, bulging and pulsing with a smoky black substance. " **You will be the one regretting this, when it is all over.** "

"I daresay," Solas murmured, his tone sarcastic. The white tiled room disappeared and turned into a cold, misty landscape, lit by single crescent moon. "But I must give credit where credit is due. Had I not thought of coming, you might have succeeded." He chuckled. "Maxwell Trevelyan, hm? Quite a step up, even for you."

The once handsome face, now marred by a garish scar of black smoke, snarled at the elf. " **You think you are so powerful, elf. That hubris – wasn't it once your downfall? Have you learned nothing from it?** "

"I could say the same for you."

Before a rejoinder could be prepared, the ground beneath them vibrated. Both demon and elf looked up, aware of a disturbance in the atmosphere. The air seemed to shimmer briefly, as though distorted by heat waves, and a distant cry reverberated over them. " _Lord Seeker Lucius! Step away from the Herald – now!_ "

Solas recognized Cassandra's voice almost immediately. _So she has found the Lord Seeker,_ he thought.

Envy cursed. " **An interference!** " But when it looked at Solas, it gave out a chuckle, which grew into a laugh. " **Strut and flaunt all you want, elf. You may have weakened me here, but you forget that I hold power elsewhere. In the end, I am the one who has her body – you won't recover it, not while you're still dreaming!** "

" _Oi! Whaddyou think you're doing!?_ " echoed a voice Solas didn't recognize.

 _Wherever the Lord Seeker is, it is getting urgent,_ he realized. As much as he hated to admit it, the demon was right. "We shall see about that," he then promised, before pulling away from the wintry mist. The moonlit landscape fell away, blurring into an indiscernible nothing, and then he opened his eyes a moment later back in the little waiting room with Lady Josephine.

Almost at once, the ambassador fell upon him with questions. "Well? What have you found? Is she still alive?"

Solas shot up to his feet, using his staff to steady himself. "Yes," he replied, "but in grave danger. I must go–"

"I am coming with you."

He shook his head. "I cannot put you through th–"

"That is not for you to decide," she interrupted. "Besides, I am not as helpless as I seem." She heaved a sigh, one that seemed to pain her, and explained, "I trained as a bard in Antiva when I was young. I renounced it because of the violence, but..." She shook out a long and thin blade from her sleeve as she rose to her feet. "If it comes down to it, I will use it to protect myself. And others."

Well. Solas hadn't been expecting that. "I see," was all that he said. "Well, then..." He knelt by Captain Denam once again, this time to slip a sleeping draught through the man's lips. _We can't have him waking up at an inopportune moment, after all._ Then, putting the vial aside, he took down the icy barrier and barricade of furniture. When he and Josephine were out of the room, he placed a barrier on the door – an inconspicuous one, this time – and rushed down the hall. Josephine went after him, daggers held ready.

* * *

Ser Barris raced up to the window. "Lord Seeker!" he cried, but try as he might, he could find no trace of Lucius or the Herald. It was as if they had vanished into thin air. "They're gone," he reported to the others in the room, and averted his eyes from Cassandra's glare as she brushed past him to confirm it for herself.

"Well that's just fucking _great_ ," Sera groaned. "You sure they're not grease spots down there?"

"I'm positive," Ser Barris insisted. "I would have seen them, otherwise. I...I just don't understand. How could they have disappeared? Unless it was by magic–"

Cassandra pulled back from the window, aware of a noise at the door. "More red templars," she surmised, and they readied their weapons once again in anticipation of another fight.

But when the door opened, she was shocked to find none other than a breathless Solas and Josephine stumbling into the room.

"Lady Josephine!" Blackwall exclaimed. "What're you doing here? It's not safe!"

"Did I not tell you to guard the Knight–Captain?" Cassandra reprimanded Solas.

But the elf was having none of it. "I would not have come if I didn't think the matter serious, Seeker," he bit back. "The Knight-Captain is adequately held for now, but forget about him; where is the Lord Seeker?"

"Jumped out the window," Sera supplied unhelpfully, "taking Herald with him."

Josephine let out a cry of horror. "No!"

"But we're not sure if they're, well, dead," Ser Barris interrupted. "I couldn't see them."

Solas headed up to the window, but after briefly looking down, he looked up and across at the sprawling battlements of the Seeker fortress. "They're fine," he said, drawing away from the open window. "I can lead you to them. However, the Lord Seeker will not be his usual self."

"I think we've seen that for ourselves," Cassandra interjected.

"No, it is more than that," Solas insisted. "It was not the Lord Seeker you saw in this room, but a demon – Envy."

A leaden weight suddenly descended upon the room at this revelation. Cassandra appeared to be hit the hardest, but was the quickest to recover. "Then..."

"We must move quickly. Just as the demon has assumed the Lord Seeker's form, it will attempt to do the same with the Herald. I have given her the tools to fight its influence, but we must not leave her alone with it for too long."

Cassandra cursed for the umpteenth time that day. From her training, she knew envy demons to be of the rarer sort, and among the more dangerous.

Ser Barris was aware of this as well, but his face was set with a grim determination. "So it's a demon," he growled, his eyes burning fiercely. "We've got no time to lose, then. But to fight a demon of that magnitude, we will need more lyrium."

The templars behind him nodded, and one of them piped up, "There's a store of it – regular lyrium – in the upper barracks, not too far from here."

"Where do you think the demon has taken Ahnnie?" Cassandra then asked Solas.

He pointed in a certain direction beyond the window. Ser Barris looked, and said, "The inner courtyard, then, or somewhere around it. We'll have to be quick."

As they headed out of the office in pursuit of this new goal, Sera made a face. "Demons? _Eeeeuugh_!"

* * *

 _Good memories...focus on the good memories..._

Ahnnie shook her head in distress. _I can't!_ Not with all this fear, this uncertainty, and the pressing urgency that marked their flight.

Beside her, Cole suddenly stopped running, forcing her to stumble to a halt. "Is it difficult for you?" he asked, concerned.

Ahnnie blinked, realizing yet again that the young man had heard her mental anguish. "A little," she admitted. "I'm trying, though."

"Maybe I can help." He bade her sit down and settled across from her, his legs criss-crossed while she sat on her knees. "Can you think of warmth? Of comfort?"

"I..."

"Settle down. You're too fast."

She frowned. "But I'm sitting."

Cole shook his head. "No, no – you're going too fast, you're..." He held up a helpless hand, struggling to make her understand. "You're not still!"

"Um, I'm not moving, except to speak."

"No!" Cole cried out, frustrated. "That's not what I meant!"

Ahnnie grew annoyed. "Just what are you trying to say? I'm not moving at all, and you keep on–" Then she paused. _Wait, I think he means..._ "My thoughts?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

Cole nodded vigorously. "Yes, but beyond that – it's fast, it never stops moving, it's like...like a bird, it won't stop flapping, fretting–"

She immediately latched onto the last word. _Fretting._ "I get it now," she said, the answer dawning upon her. "You're talking about my anxiety." She heaved a deep sigh. "I...well, I'm trying, but this isn't exactly the best mood for good memories." _I mean, there's a demon trying to take my body, and I just witnessed some of the worst moments of my life._ Even the most stoic person in the world would be hard pressed to relax after that.

"You must settle down," Cole urged her. "Slow yourself, let go of the pain."

"You're one to talk."

"What?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it. "Never mind," she sighed. "I'm trying, but I can't."

"Try harder."

"How?"

Cole frowned. "Well, how do you normally slow yourself down? Try doing that."

Goodness, this riddle–talk was frustrating. But she knew he was talking about calming her anxiety. _Hmm, how did I normally do it?_ She thought of drawing, but there was nothing to draw with here. Or to read, for that matter. And there was no piano to play. Plus, no dogs to walk. _Godammit, this is harder than I thought._ She shut her eyes tight, trying to think of other ways; ways she could use without anything around her, that would take place in her mind, and work just as well.

"You're doing it!" Cole enthused a short while later. "Keep doing it!"

 _What? But I'm not..._ then she realized that in trying to think of what to do, she'd already forgotten her anxiety. Still, she did not open her eyes. There was something comforting about keeping them closed _._ _Okay, let's see where we'll go with that._ She loosened her eyelids so that they weren't squinted as tightly and let her mind wander. Random images floated into her head; a pony, a cloud, a flute, a clover... _Right, I should focus on good memories._ Hmm, good memories...

"There was that one time Khang stuffed sand into a dude's mouth on Virginia Beach," she suddenly said. "The guy had his body buried in the sand and was asleep...I heard the lifeguard had to make him eat wax to get it all out..."

The crashing of waves met her ears, as well as the delighted laughter of children. Her eyelids shivered, then fluttered open, and she found herself kneeling on a sandy beach, surrounded by beachgoers and facing a group of four young children squealing mischievously over a spluttering head in the sand. Then her father ran up to the sand-choked man and began apologizing profusely. Her aunts followed shortly after.

"Khang got into big trouble with his mom after that," she murmured. "But when the adults weren't watching, we all laughed about it again."

"And?" Cole prompted.

Ahnnie pursed her lips, thinking. "And there was that one time Phương, Tiên, and I put our hair up in pigtails. 'Cause, you know, we were being girly, and then–" She chortled. "And then Khang suddenly wanted to do it too. But he's a boy, right? And his hair was short, so it was difficult...in the end, we did it anyway, and took a walk in the neighborhood to show it off."

The scene transitioned to a homely little neighborhood. Four such children as she described were linking arms, skipping merrily on the sidewalk and laughing hysterically every time a passerby saw the pigtailed boy. He looked like Boo from Monsters, Inc., but stockier.

Ahnnie laughed as well, and pointed at him. "Did you see that? His hair – ahaha!"

"Keep going," Cole urged her. "What else do you remember?"

"We went to Disney World together, and saw a play at the Cinderella castle–" The amusement park rose around her, as magical and charming as the first time she beheld it. "–we went on the Disney cruise line a year or so later, and visited the Bahamas–" Dreadlocked musicians played on their steelpan drums in an island city of color. "–and then there were those days when my dad would take us out to get bubble tea at the local Bánh Mì place." Four children sitting in the car, slurping on colorful drinks with black tapioca balls at the bottom. "Oh! And that one time...godammit, I can't remember what we said, but we laughed so hard, Khang squirt milk through his nose!"

It was like a locomotive gaining traction. The more Ahnnie remembered, the more memories returned to her. Even after the custody battle, she could think of something. "When me and Bình and Tiên, just the three of us went to see this Christmas parade in this small town – I think it was five years ago? God, was I really a teenager then? I'm _old_!"

And she couldn't forget the first time Cao-Cao and Cixi were brought home as puppies. Cao-Cao was older, so he came to them first, while Cixi followed around a year later. Cao-Cao was always a stocky one, puffy and fluffy like the big ball of fur he was. Cixi was smaller, and a lot more sassy, but no less adorable. Then the miracle of birth as Cixi welcomed nine little puppies into the world. And how could she forget Bilbo's antics, sticking his nose up people's buttocks in greeting and doing all sorts of tricks for a tasty little tidbit?

"See?" Cole said, smiling. "You just had to slow down."

Ahnnie turned her head from the ever-changing scenery and smiled back at Cole. "Yeah...you were right. Thank you."

At last, the memories slowed to a pause, like the sweet dusk of a summer sunset. They left a pleasant glow inside her, a warm and fuzzy feeling that she welcomed with all her heart. At that precise moment, Cole stood up, holding out a hand for her.

She eagerly took it and let him pull her to her feet. "What's going on?" she asked.

"It's time," he responded.

"For what?"

"To break free."

Still confused, she looked around them. "I don't see..." Then she noticed how their surroundings were slowly brightening, as if the sun was rising over a new land. The air before her shimmered and sang with a powerful clarity that struck her in the very core. Cole's hand grasped hers a little tighter, and he gave a short nod.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She looked into his watery blue eyes. "Yup," she nodded back.

"All right, then–" With a great leap, he pulled her after him, and they fell into a weightless abyss of shining white light.

It turned out to be light from the sky a moment later, as Ahnnie's eyes began to flutter open. _Wow, how pretty..._ but then her vision cleared, and the stony face of Lord Seeker Lucius appeared directly above her. A cold piece of metal was also laid against her neck; with a dawning sense of horror, she realized it was a dagger. Before she could let out a scream, Cole tackled the Lord Seeker away from her.

Ahnnie sat up, feeling the bite of the blade drag against her skin. She held a hand to up her neck and pulled it away to find blood. Luckily enough, it was just a flesh wound. Not so luckily, Cole received a stab to the shoulder for his insolence.

"Cole!" she cried out, scrambling to her feet. The young man was then rudely pushed in her direction, bumping into her face. She steadied him from behind and whirled him around to look at his shoulder. "Oh no, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he ground out.

She let out a hiss of breath upon seeing how deep the wound was. _"_ Christ, Cole, can you even move your arm?"

"Enjoyed yourselves, didn't you?" the Lord Seeker then snarled, and her attention turned to him.

With one hand still placed on Cole's shoulder, she unsheathed her sword and held it out threateningly. "It's over, Envy," she shot back. "You couldn't take control of me. I won't let you try again, or hurt anyone else!" She deeply regretted leaving her glaive behind at the chateau, but resolved to fight using what she had. _I've got no other choice._

The Lord Seeker's features started to bubble and contort. His limbs jerked wildly, as though he were suffering from a seizure. But he was still standing, and he appeared to grow taller with every jerk. "I touched so much of you," he reproached, his voice unsteady. "But you are selfish with your glory. Now, I' **m no one!** " With a great roar, he burst through his armor, sprouting two extra limbs on each side of his torso. His shoulders and legs elongated, and his face bubbled over in a great mound of flesh. What stood before them was the Lord Seeker no longer – it was a stilt-legged demon with four arms and a bulbous face, stretched over with a naked skin of musty pink flesh.

"Christ on a cracker," Ahnnie swore, drawing back a step. Cole did so as well, but stopped clutching his injury to withdraw two daggers from his belt. Seeing the resolve in his eyes, she strengthened hers as well and lowered herself into a fighting stance.

The demon roared, and made to lunge at them.

* * *

They arrived at the upper barracks only to find it barricaded. Ser Barris pounded urgently on the door, hoping there were still people inside. "Is there anyone there? Let us in! We are normal templars!"

"I am Seeker Cassandra, of the Inquisition," Cassandra then shouted. "We are here to help."

Still, no response.

Cassandra nodded at the door. "Break it down."

Ser Barris, the three templars, and Blackwall made to rush for the door; Solas waved them off impatiently and cast a spell with his staff. It splintered the wood with a spear of ice, and he cast another to do it in. But just before the magic could reach, it was repelled with a force only templars were capable of.

"All right, all right!" a voice shouted from inside. "Just stop making so much noise!"

The elf smiled knowingly and lowered his staff. A moment later, part of the barricade fell away and the splintered door was pushed aside to reveal a room sheltering several other templars. Seeing that the people before them were uncorrupted by red lyrium, they tentatively let them inside.

"Ah, Barris," one of the templars sighed in relief. "Thank the Maker, you're alive!" He didn't even bother with the fact that a mage was with them; being able to find people who weren't red templars was consolation enough.

Ser Barris nodded at him. "Same to you, Fletcher."

Ser Fletcher then directed the other templars to rebuild the barricade, but Cassandra stopped him. "Since we have found you here, we might as well go together to stop the Lord Seeker."

"Or rather, a demon that's been impersonating him," Ser Barris clarified. "We need to defeat it, rescue the Herald, and get the hell out of here."

Ser Fletcher's eyes widened. "Surely you don't think a force our size can overtake the red ones down below?" he challenged, gesturing briefly at the weary men in the room. Ser Fletcher included, they numbered at six, which if added to the other party made fifteen people – a pathetic force, indeed. "There won't even be a man left to fight the demon, if it ever comes down to that."

"So, what, you're just gonna sit here?" Sera asked, crossing her arms. "Hide until they disappear?"

He shook his head. "What choice do we have?"

Ser Barris furrowed his brows and stepped up to him. "We are _Templars_ , Fletcher," he reminded him. "We do not hide, not when there's people to save."

"It's just one girl–"

"Who holds the key to stopping the Breach. Even then, who knows what else this demon will do? And all because we refused to stop it." Ser Barris held the other's gaze steady with his eyes, before breaking away to say, "Those who choose not to go, fine; don't go. But allow those of us who _are_ going the lyrium we need to fight the demon."

An uncomfortable silence followed this declaration, weighing heavily upon them all as Ser Barris and the three templars with him rummaged through the stores for lyrium. Eventually, one of the other templars in the room began to help, and so did another, until only Ser Fletcher was left. With a sigh, he joined in as well, and drank a draught of the glowing blue lyrium.

"I still don't think you should come along," Blackwall was saying in the meantime to Josephine. "It's a demon–"

"Bard training includes combat against Fade creatures," the ambassador interjected. "Besides, I will be assisting you from the side, not diving into the thick of battle."

Cassandra turned curiously in their direction. "That may be true," she agreed, "but how long has it been since you've last fought?"

"Not counting the occasional skirmish or unwanted advance of an overeager noble, it has been several years," Josephine admitted.

"Hardly reassuring," said the Seeker dryly. "But we shall see how it goes."

The templars at last were ready. Their attention turned to the Sers Barris and Fletcher, who were engaged in formulating a plan of action. It was at last decided that they would not return to the hall but take down a barricade on the farther side of the room and exit through there, where it would lead out to a series of parapets that could take them to the inner courtyard faster.

They stalked out of the barracks in two groups, careful to keep their advance quiet lest they should encounter red templar patrols. If there were to be any, their greater advantage lay in that of surprise. Each group split up at a certain junction in the parapets, led by a capable templar who knew the way by heart. When they met up again a while later, they were relieved to have not encountered any corrupted templars on the way, though that luck might prove to be short-lived.

Solas stirred in the direction of the courtyard, and the rest believed they could hear the distant sound of shouting and things crashing. "It is near," the mage surmised.

Ser Barris then led them down to a set of stairs in the wall. They all descended at a rapid trot, eager to reach the Herald as soon as possible. As they gathered at the bottom, they were wary of the possibility of red templars in the area and came close together.

Strangely enough, there were none.

Cassandra kept her sword ready as she stalked forward. "Be wary," she warned them all. "This seems too good to be true." She would have told them to split into two groups again, except that their numbers were so few and their enemies, so powerful.

Unbeknownst to her, Sera occasionally flitted her eyes to the parapets above them, as if in search of something elusive.

When they finally neared the fated courtyard, they found a tall, fleshy demon swinging its long arms in haphazard motions at the ground. It was chasing a fleeing figure, who was ducking frantically around its sweeping attacks. The figure turned out to be the Herald, overall fine except for the dust and scratches she'd received from rolling on the ground. What baffled Cassandra most was that the girl was actually head-to-head with a demon, all on her own.

Of course, she would not be able to hold out for long. "Charge!" Ser Barris cried, and they leapt to life at this command.

Upon sensing their intrusion, the demon whirled around and roared. Almost as if they understood it to be a command, red templars rushed out of nowhere, blocking their advance with an impassable line.

 _I knew it!_ the Seeker cursed. But seeing no other way around it, she ran to meet their charge; as she did so, she mentally prepared herself for another display of her abilities.

"Whoa!" Sera cried out upon seeing the templars. She skidded to a stop and shot an arrow randomly into the air, hitting nothing but the dusty ground behind the enemy's line.

"What're you doing!?" Blackwall shouted incredulously, unable to believe her ridiculous aim.

"Just watch!" she shouted back, a wide grin on her face.

Bees.

Timed with an almost accurate precision, glass jars of bees were suddenly thrown from the parapets to break open at the red templars' feet, right before Ser Barris' force could come close. Upon hearing the angry buzzing, Cassandra and the other templars halted their advance, watching in bewilderment as the mighty red templars before them were reduced to angry flailing and screaming. The bees were aggressive, hounding the men relentlessly and following their chosen targets regardless of where they ran.

Everyone turned to Sera, dumbfounded.

"Never fail to ruin parties, those bees," she said smugly.

"The work of your 'friends', no doubt?" Cassandra asked.

The elven archer only shot her a grin before loosing arrows into the frenzied red templar ranks.

The Seeker shook her head, and the warriors took advantage of their opponents' distractions to dive into battle.

* * *

Ahnnie heard the clanking footsteps of templars heading out to battle under the command of the demon. She turned in that direction and recognized her companions rushing to meet them; Cassandra, Blackwall, Solas, even Sera, and... _Josephine!?_ she thought in disbelief as she saw the ambassador on the edge of the conflict, throwing knives at a templar. Little specks flew around his head, looking an awful lot like bugs of some sort. Ser Barris and some other templars appeared to be on the Inquisition's side, fighting against the demon's templars...

 _This is so confusing!_ Why were templars fighting fellow templars, and who was who? What the girl did not notice, however, was the almost feral ferocity of the demon's templars. She would not have time to notice, for Envy turned back from the momentary distraction to attack her again.

"Cole!" she cried out, jumping to the side to avoid another swipe. "Cole, where are you!?"

The young man had been hit by the demon earlier, thrown off to god-knows-where. She certainly didn't know, despite running round and round in circles for what felt like ages. Three slashes graced Envy's left leg, the only cuts she was able to score before being kicked away or forced to duck. On the lower half of Envy's torso, there was a slash and a stab that had been dealt by Cole in an amazing feat of magic that turned him invisible, allowing him to sneak up on the demon when it least expected it. But it was from that attack that he was abruptly tossed away, taking the brunt of a swipe from one of Envy's long arms.

At last, one of the friendly templars broke through the line and rushed at the demon. His sword flashed white and he raised it into the air before connecting it to the demon's leg a moment later. Envy hissed, and turned to swipe at him. A second templar arrived and repeated the same maneuver. Thus occupied, Ahnnie shook away her worry for Cole and charged at the demon, aiming for the back of the legs. With the aid of the two other templars, she was able to score more cuts, and the demon appeared to be hard pressed between them.

Then it suddenly hissed and shimmered in a cloud of black smoke into nothing; in a bewildered whirl, she found that the demon relocated itself at the far side of the courtyard, erecting a glowing green barrier in front of it.

"It's trying to hide," Cole said from beside her, and she whirled back around to face him.

"Holy fuck, Cole!" she swore. The young man looked terrible; he was not only bleeding, but was badly bruised along his other shoulder and corresponding cheek. Blood was also dribbling from his nose in a thin red line; it was a miracle his hat even stayed intact. "You've got to get out of here–"

"But you need help," he protested.

" _You're_ the one who needs help," she insisted. "Seriously, before you get too hurt."

He suddenly looked behind him, then urged her to run towards the demon. "Hurry; it's bringing out the redder ones."

"The what?" Ahnnie asked.

"The _horrors_."

* * *

Josephine couldn't remember the last time she moved so urgently, flexing her limbs in an agile dance as she alternated between throwing knives and scoring hits with the elusive points of her daggers. On her own, of course, she was unable to take down a red templar; but alongside Blackwall, the feat was a possibility. They cornered one of the flailing men, the Warden parrying and slashing while the ambassador flitted around, stinging him in places he left open.

It was breathless and exhilarating, reminding her of why she had taken up the way of the bard back in her youth. It was also very sweaty, much to her dismay several moments later. _I do hope I am not required to do this much._

Just before the red templar could make a damaging riposte in response to one of Blackwall's attacks, Josephine snaked out a hand and thrust her dagger beneath the point of his armpit. The Warden immediately took advantage of the injury and bashed the red templar's chin in a punishing uppercut before thrusting his blade through the man's abdomen. With a final push, he slid the corpse off his blade, and nodded appreciatively at Josephine.

"That was good," he commented. "Better than I expected, even."

The ambassador tossed back a stray brunette curl. "Well," she said, her cheeks growing warm. But then she noticed the blood on the Warden's arm. "Good heavens! Are you all right, Warden Blackwall?"

He waved it away with a dismissive, "Eh, it's just a scratch."

A bloodcurdling scream diverted their attention from the wound. They looked in its direction to find one of the regular templars fallen, having been cut down by a brute of a red templar. Red lyrium crystals jutted out from this templar's back and his hands were unnaturally bent and clawed. It was then they noticed he did not wield a sword. Instead, the crystalline templar grew a wad of red lyrium in his back and flung it at his target with a hand.

"Holy Maker!" Blackwall pushed Josephine out of the way when he realized the red lyrium was heading for her. He narrowly avoided it himself, watching ominously as it exploded on the ground behind him and emitted an angry red essence. He turned his head back around and brought out his sword defensively before him, shielding the ambassador with his big form.

Several more of these brutes suddenly headed into the courtyard, taking aim with their red lyrium crystals. At this, Blackwall urgently ordered Josephine into hiding. "It's even less safe than it was before. Go–"

"I will not flee," the ambassador objected stubbornly, though she eyed the crystal templars warily. "Our being trapped in this mess is...partly my responsibility. I will do what I can at your side."

Blackwall stared at her in awe, as if unable to believe what he was hearing. "But the moment it gets too dangerous, you're getting out of here."

"Oooh, gettin' a little sweet now, aren't we?"

They both turned around in shock to find Sera smirking at them.

"Not now, Sera," Blackwall scolded her.

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh! Broody beard!" Then, shooting up an arrow again, she sent another signal to the invisible friends on the parapets.

"More bees?" the Warden asked.

"No," Sera shook her head. "Friends!"

Ropes came down from the parapets on the walls around them and hooded figures with various weaponry slid down to the ground. Their numbers were not easily counted, but one could chance a guess that they gave a boost of some eight to ten people to the Inquisition's numbers. They were not equipped to take down the crystal templars, of course – Josephine didn't think Sera or any of her 'friends' knew of that in advance – but their various other projectiles were certainly useful, such as a grenade that exploded sticky pitch all over a red templar.

"You certainly have some interesting friends," the ambassador remarked, watching the pitch-coated templar getting set on fire with a flaming arrow.

Sera chortled. "Told you they'd come!"

* * *

Ser Barris bellowed in pain as a red lyrium shard struck his cheek. Cassandra whirled around and blocked another shard with her shield, turning back to look at the injured templar. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice sharp.

The Knight-Templar winced as he clutched the side of his face with his free hand. "Maker's balls!" he ground out. "I should be fine–" But he screamed again as a burning heat singed his skin, threatening the corner of his eye and mouth.

Cassandra's brow furrowed deeper as she held off the red templar he had been fighting in addition to the one she was occupied with. In a risky push, she set their blood afire with her ability, granting herself the small advantage of their distraction but draining her stamina yet again.

An arrow sang through the air and sank in from the back of one of the red templars' neck. As he gave way, the other templar beside him received a jarring whack to the helmet with a powerful flail, causing him to stumble; a sword poked out of his stomach a moment later, and Cassandra looked up to face her hooded assistants, grinning broadly back at her.

"Afternoon, Seeker," one of them, a shaggy city elf greeted imperiously. "Red Jenny sends her regards."

 _Red Jenny?_ Then she remembered. "You're friends of Red Jenny."

The other, a bulky human, snickered. "Surprised, yeah?"

"We sure showed her up," the city elf grinned. "Proud one, she is, trying to take two on at once."

"Wonder if she'd take us two on at once?"

Amused cackling.

"If you have time to be joking, then you have time to be fighting," the Seeker put in dryly, unamused by their antics. She left them behind to assist Ser Barris, whose face was still burning. _Why am I not surprised?_ she asked herself as she heard the two 'friends' behind her make more insidious jokes as they fought. Looking left and right, she made her careful way towards an open arcade, herding the injured templar behind a pillar. "How are you feeling?"

Ser Barris winced. "It hurts like hell," he grimaced, "but give me a minute or two and I should feel better."

"Stay here in the meantime," she commanded him, and jogged back into the fray.

"Seeker!" another imperious voice called out to her.

But it was not a Red Jenny, thank the Maker. It was Solas; at least she could trust him to be serious. "What is it?" she asked him, drawing near.

He twirled his staff, shooting magical ice at red templars and crystal templars alike. "Where is Ahnnie? I need her to get rid of the demon."

Cassandra shook her head. "I've lost sight of her long into the battle."

He cursed in elvish. "Well if you find her, tell her that I need her. I have an idea she will be required for."

The Seeker could tell that the elf had hatched yet another plan in his mind. It amazed her sometimes, the solutions he could come up with. In situations like these, they almost always resulted in something useful – _such as his foresight on the Lord Seeker being an impostor,_ she thought. Trusting this to be another one of those plans, she nodded at him. "I will." _If I ever do find her,_ she then thought, giving the chaotic field one last glance before going off to join it.

* * *

 _Horrors?_ Ahnnie wondered, and then Cole shoved her rudely to the ground. "Hey, what gives?"

But a short moment later, he too fell beside her as an angry red projectile flew over their heads, landing on the nearest templar with a splintering hiss. It shot into his face and his skin, causing him great agony as its vehement redness spread like a poisonous cloud over his features. He fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

"It sings...sick music," Cole muttered, his blue-gray eyes widened fearfully.

Ahnnie looked in the direction of the projectile and saw its source. "What the _fuck_?" A hunchbacked giant of a templar was growing _crystals_ on his hump and flinging it at everybody! _What on earth?_ But somehow, those crystals were familiar. She narrowed her eyes, struggling to remember what they were. "Red leer...leer-something," she said at last, remembering Varric's horror upon seeing them.

"Red lyrium," Cole corrected her.

Then it dawned upon her. The templars on Envy's side were the ones wielding red lyrium. On those who didn't wear it on their backs, she realized their faces or other open skin were veined with copious amounts of red, whereas the templars on their side appeared normal. She did not yet know of lyrium consumption; hence, her confusion.

Ahnnie scrambled to her feet. "We can't stay here. We've got to stop Envy."

Cole jogged after her, giving her helpful pointers for when she had to avoid incoming launches of red lyrium. Along the way, she realized new people were on the scene; hooded people, working in tandem with the the normal templars, often with eccentric methods of fighting. As if in response, a pitch-coated, flaming red templar sped past her eyes, screaming wildly.

Ignoring them, she continued heading for Envy; along the way, she bumped into the Seeker.

"Maker's breath!" Cassandra exclaimed when she whirled around and saw Ahnnie. "There you are!"

Ahnnie smiled at the Seeker, more relieved than ever to see the glaring woman. "Cassandra! I'm so glad to see y–"

"Not now. Solas has been looking for you!"

The girl was then pushed in the direction of the elven mage, who was working with some three normal templars in holding off an advance of the lyrium launchers. The first line of red templars had more or less diminished by now; it was the crystalline ones they were now wary of, and fighting so haphazardly to diminish. Meanwhile, Envy nursed its wounds behind the glowing green barrier, summoning more crystal brutes onto the field alongside auxiliary archer forces.

Solas froze off one of the brutes, and noticed Ahnnie's approach. "Finally! Come with me."

Ahnnie ducked after him, running up to Envy's barrier. He waved his staff to deal with an enemy archer before stopping in front of the barrier, turning urgently to her. "What is it?" she asked, eager to be of use.

"I know you may not like this," he began, "but I will need you to focus on your mana."

With a grim determination, she nodded in affirmative. There was hardly any room for squeamishness now. "What else?"

"Give me your left hand."

She did just that and closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath. It had been a while since the last time she willingly tapped into her mana; but then Solas began to chant something, and it helped her to relax a little more _._ Feeling the familiar tingle, she worked it up from her stomach and up to her arms. No further effort was required on her part, for the mark sucked all the power for itself, grabbing hungrily at the magic.

"Very good," Solas congratulated her as he held up her crackling hand. She opened her eyes accordingly and saw it flaring with wild green energy. "Let us see if this works–"

He held it up at the envy demon's barrier. Perhaps because it was reacting to something from the Fade, the flare suddenly shot out wildly in a beam almost like a rift-beam, but in a shorter burst. The dancing magic hit the barrier and broke it down, leaving Envy vulnerable once again. The demon screeched, obviously incensed.

Both she and Solas sprang back as Envy swiped an arm at them. Still holding onto her hand, Solas then said to her: "Now, we are going to create a rift."

" _What_!?" she exclaimed.

"Trust me," he assured her. Holding up her left hand once more, he urged her to think of shooting mana from the mark.

She turned away and closed her eyes again. All that mana, gathered collectively in her mark, pulsed and squirmed in an almost delighted eagerness to be set free. She was surprised to think of it that way, as if it were a living being, and with another chant from Solas, felt the familiar tug and pull of an elongated rift-beam. When she looked up to see it, she found it tearing at an empty space in the air, creating a neon green hole that grew wider and wider.

"Is this such a good idea?" she shouted over the din of the rift. It frightened her to think of what else could emerge from this tear in the Veil – they were hard pressed with the red templars already. She didn't think the addition of other demons besides Envy was such a strategic maneuver.

"As I said, trust me," Solas repeated. With an imperious hand, he waved forth the templars behind them.

Their swords flashing white, they charged for the demon with a bold war cry. Ahnnie noticed that they purposefully came at Envy's flank opposite the rift. When they fought the demon, they drove it back, pushing it closer and closer towards the newly torn rift.

Ahnnie beamed. "I get it now!" _Solas is brilliant!_ But she found herself faltering a moment later, and would have stumbled to her knees if it weren't for his firm grasp.

Solas noticed it. "You're magically weakened from your encounter with Envy," he said, looking over her confused features. "I apologize, da'len – if you can bear with this a little longer–"

She bit down on her lower lip and nodded. "I'll try."

In addition to the templars, the rift was sucking Envy in, pulling at the demon as it neared the many neon tendrils. Envy attempted to delay the inevitable by clawing its feet into the ground, but the rushing templars, with their anti-magic abilities, pushed it ever closer to the rift. Ser Barris arrived a moment later to assist them, one side of his face swollen red with an angry burn. With a great swing of his sword, he managed to hack through Envy's shinbone, severing the limb.

Solas pulled her hand away, suddenly stopping the beam. "And now, we close it," he explained, and brought her hand back up again for a new one.

Envy's shriek was ear-splitting as the mark shrank the rift. Ahnnie wasn't sure whether this was meant to trap the demon back in the Fade, or weaken it as usually happened when closing rifts. Her eyes were starting to blur and her head grew heavy, making that question seem inconsequential anyway. She could feel Solas using his other hand to steady the rest of her body, all the while the beam pulled and pulled at the center of her palm.

In a bright blast of green light that echoed across the courtyard, the rift was finally closed. Envy's body was suddenly petrified in green light, then shattered into a million points of light particles.

A great commotion went up from the courtyard around her. She could only assume that they were cheering, or fighting off the remaining red templars with a renewed vigor. At any rate, it didn't matter to her anymore, as she suddenly slipped from Solas' grip and fell to the ground, exhausted.

She was aware of someone pulling her up into their arms a moment later, causing her head to loll haphazardly like a weight on her neck. With bleary eyes, she tried to see who it was.

"Herald?" the person was saying. _I think it's Ser Barris..._ "Are you all right...all right?"

Ahnnie blinked and squinted, finding the glare of the sun on his armor uncomfortable. A shadowy figure wavered behind the templar's shoulder, wearing what looked like a wide-brimmed hat. "Cole," she called out to it, her voice weak.

"What?"

She blinked again, and the figure disappeared. "Where...where is Cole?"

But she was unable to receive an answer to her question as the blackness crept around the corners of her vision, and stole over her eyes.


	21. Chapter 19

After the demon's defeat, the red templars were suddenly not so much of a threat anymore. But it was due more to a mass retreat than any miraculous lapse in strength; no one was exactly sure where they fled to, but they cleared out of the inner courtyard not too long after Envy fell. When the Inquisition decided to do a comb-over of the fortress, they were revealed to have completely vanished. Ser Barris surmised that they left through a postern gate, and had been preparing to leave Val Royeaux during the siege.

What they discovered in the empty corridors of the fortress was discouraging. In Knight-Captain Denam's quarters, they discovered the body of the Knight-Vigilant and papers implying Denam was aware of the red lyrium's dangers. In another room, they found plots to assassinate Empress Celene; and from another set of notes found scattered throughout the fortress, higher-ups had been aware of Envy's impersonation, even encouraging it, and the Seekers were not meant to exist in the new world the "master" was building. They could only surmise that this "master" was the Elder One, as Knight-Captain Denam had the courtesy to disclose earlier.

The aftermath of the battle was devastating for the templars. Of the ten that had fought alongside the Inquisition, there now stood only five: Ser Barris and Ser Fletcher, with three other men. As it was soon revealed, they were the only uncorrupted still standing in the fortress. The Red Jennies themselves had two casualties, while the Inquisition was lucky to have suffered none. However, everyone was a little more bruised and battered than before.

With nothing left to do, they all left the Seeker fortress. The Friends of Red Jenny disappeared into the alleyways and rooftops of Val Royeaux, while the Inquisition and five battered templars gathered up their prisoner and hailed coaches to take them to the Chateau de Ghislain. The carriage that originally bore them to the fortress had been smashed to pieces, the horses slain or stolen, and the driver, dead.

* * *

The first thing Madame Vivienne did upon hearing of the Herald's struggle against Envy was to quarantine her with a magic barrier and summon a spirit mage still loyal to the Circle to inspect her for signs of possession. Cassandra was displeased, for Ahnnie had been in the presence of not just a Seeker on the way back but five templars, and the Seeker herself had witnessed Envy's demise firsthand. But the precautions were understandable, so she did not raise much of a fuss – there was no use in doing so, especially when Ahnnie was cleared within the hour.

The girl had been carried back to the chateau largely unconscious and languished in her chambers with a fever, so she posed no difficulty for the spirit mage when he inspected her. As soon as the he was gone and the barrier taken down, Solas took to nourishing her back to health with a strong and bitter herbal brew.

Ahnnie did not know how much time had passed since then; everything had been so dream-like, so fuzzy; but at a certain point, she was lucid and noticed the elf beside her with keen interest. "Hey, Solas," she greeted him with a small smile.

He put aside the bowl of tea or whatever it was and smiled back at her. "A good morning to you, too. How are you feeling?"

She blinked, thinking about it. "Fine, I guess...you?"

"Likewise."

A silence passed between them. Then, licking her chapped lips, Ahnnie began, "What you helped me to do, to counter Envy...I can't thank you enough. Without you, I might have fallen to its temptation."

"I only did what I had to," the elf demurred.

"I know." She looked down on the folded hands on her stomach, noting absentmindedly how they seemed a little paler than before. "Um, Solas, if you're not upset, or anything–"

"Why would I be upset?" he countered.

She blushed. "Well, I just wanted to make sure. So, if you don't mind...could you teach me magic again?"

"Of course; I would be happy to."

Ahnnie breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god. Er, thank _you_. I...I just don't want something like Envy to happen again. And I realized...if I learn to control it properly, magic can do me a lot of good. Like, I don't have to be an expert at it, but I'd like to know how to counter demons when they try to possess me, for example." Looking up at him, she added, "I also don't want to be helpless anymore."

Solas nodded. "I understand, da'len."

She liked being called that; da'len. It made her feel like a child again, and in a good way _._ But she knew she couldn't be a child forever. She would not want that, anyway. With a heavy sigh, she addressed Solas in a more solemn expression, "Tell me...how many of my, uh, bad memories did you see?"

Solas' eyes slanted in pity. "Are you sure you want to ask that question?"

"Morbid curiosity, I guess."

For a while, he said nothing. Then, "I couldn't understand most of them. I am not fluent in your native tongue, after all." But she knew there were memories he didn't have to know Vietnamese to understand. It showed on her face, and he sighed a moment later. "I honestly don't know what to say," he confessed. "I never imagined it was so..."

"It's okay," she whispered. "I just never told you." Not that she ever would have told him, or anyone else, for that matter.

Solas busied himself with a potion from his bag, pouring it into the bitter tea and swirling the bowl so that it mixed evenly. "You try to suppress those memories," he then said. "I can understand why. But you need not bear them alone; if there is anything you wish to say, I will listen to you without judgment."

Ahnnie blinked. It felt so strange, knowing there was someone else who was privy to some of her darkest secrets. For how long had she wished for someone like that, staying by her side and willing to understand? Someone she didn't have to hide things from, whom she could trust without fear of burdening them or implicating herself? Her lower lip trembled, but she caught it with her teeth. "I...well, sometimes, when I'm alone, I..."

"Yes?" he gently prompted.

"Sometimes I just..." She shook her head. "I just can't believe that...that it all happened to me, you know? One moment, I was just a regular kid, and then the next..." Her nose congested, causing her to sniff. "It messed up my thinking. Like, I can't believe I actually thought it was a good idea to keep my stepdad in the house, just because my little brother would miss him...he was obviously a toxic presence, doing us more bad than good. Then I ask myself, why did this happen to us? Other kids get to live a normal life – why not us?

"And..." She gulped. "If I'm not careful, I...I find myself remembering...that time, in the bathroom..." A desperate hand clutched her stomach. "And I wonder why I didn't just – just _end_ it all, if that was what my life amounted to! I never imagined something like that could happen to me; and I was so scared, 'cause what if I got a uterine infection, or my mom found out? God–" She shut her eyes tight. "There were times when I was just so tired, that I wished I wasn't alive...but I was too afraid to...You know what?" she suddenly asked. "Sometimes I think my coming to Thedas was a result of that wish."

Solas stopped swirling the bowl and looked thoughtfully at her features. She didn't notice his stare until she reopened her eyes.

"Yes?" she asked, curious.

He shook his head. "It is nothing." Then he gestured for her to sit up, and she obeyed. With a careful hand, the elven mage held the bowl up to her lips and tipped the liquid in. She gave it a hesitant sip, scrunching her face upon tasting the bitterness, then relaxed a moment later as a pleasant warmth began to emanate from her stomach. "I mixed it with a sleeping draught," Solas explained when she asked about it. "Rest now, and you should feel better when you wake up again."

"I feel better already," she breathed as she settled back down into the blankets. Spilling some of her soul had helped alleviate the long buried pain, and if there was anything she learned from Cole, it was to slow down and think of the good things. _And look forward to them,_ she added in her mind as she laid her head against the pillow.

Solas brushed the stray hair from her face before taking away the empty bowl and rising from his chair. "Sleep well," he murmured, and then quietly left the room.

* * *

The day of departure finally arrived. Val Royeaux was a beautiful city, but Ahnnie wasn't sure she wanted to stay in it any longer. Thus, she welcomed the chance to step aboard the ship commissioned by Madame Vivienne, surrounded by familiar people whom she knew she could trust. It was only recently that she made the Madame's acquaintance, but after all that happened Vivienne's face seemed as welcoming as an old friend's.

"Do be careful with that," the Madame was chiding the porters carrying her luggage. "And make sure to secure it well in the hold. More to the left, please; leave some room for the others to come aboard. Oh, don't drag it like that! Do you _want_ to test my patience?"

From beside Ahnnie, Blackwall gave a chuckle. "Wonder how she'll take to having it brought up the Frostbacks. I don't suppose she'd start yelling at the mules?"

"The Madame commissioned porters in Jader ahead of time to come along and watch the mules," Josephine put in, "so I believe she will be snapping at both."

"Might as well hex the wind and snow while she's at it," Blackwall said, clearly enjoying himself.

"Do not forget the rocks," the ambassador added.

The both of them laughed, and Ahnnie couldn't help but smile as she listened to their exchange. The fight in the Seeker stronghold appeared to have made them more familiar with each other; Blackwall now regarded the ambassador with a newfound camaraderie (as much as his sense of chivalry would allow, anyway), and Josephine couldn't help fussing over the bandage on his arm every once in a while.

The captain soon began the announcement of setting sail, and Ahnnie looked back at the harbor one last time. _I wonder if Cole is nearby,_ she thought, searching for any sign of the bedraggled young man. She had felt no sensations of being watched while going through the city, and none of the companions ever remembered seeing him either, causing her to wonder whether he had just been a figment of her imagination. _If he's real, I hope he's okay. He was badly injured..._

"Ay! Inquisition! Don't forget _me_!"

Ahnnie jolted upon hearing the exclamation. She thought at first that it was Cole, but then quickly realized that the voice was female and Cole wasn't half as outspoken.

Cassandra looked at the gangplank. "Maker's breath," she murmured, shaking her head. Blackwall and Josephine shared the same reaction, although the ambassador was more amused. Solas on the other hand was curious, tilting his head around them to get a better look.

Madame Vivienne whirled around, stimulated by the insolence. "Excuse me?" she asked, eyes narrowing at the figure sauntering aboard. "You must be mistaken. I don't recall you being a member of the Inquisition."

Two burly shipmates blocked the new arrival upon hearing the Madame's displeasure. But Ahnnie stirred in their direction and said, "No, it's okay, she's with us. Hi, Sera."

Sera's grin went from ear to ear as she parted the shipmates and stepped aboard the deck. "Knew you would come through for me," the elf chuckled, hooking a chummy arm around Ahnnie's shoulder.

Ahnnie blinked at the sudden gesture before looking up to smile sheepishly at the Madame. "Yeah, I forgot to tell you about her...we recruited her on our first night in the city. But she was a big help at the Seeker headquarters, right, Cassandra?"

The Seeker made a disgusted noise, but nodded anyway.

Madame Vivienne looked from Herald to Seeker, lips pursing in disdain. "Well, then. I put my trust in your judgment." But she made a careful aside to the captain a moment later, eyes flitting suspiciously at Sera as she spoke. The man nodded and sent someone down to the hold – _to tighten up the cargo,_ Ahnnie suspected. She did not blame the Enchanter, so long as it wasn't because Sera was an elf. That seemed unlikely thus far, given her indifferent reception of Solas.

Beyond the girls, Cassandra was pinching the bridge of her nose. "All the curses in the world cannot explain how irked I am right now."

Solas chuckled. "Tired of repeating 'Maker's breath' over and over, Seeker?"

"I will soon tire of the others, should I take them up."

Josephine chuckled as well, but grew thoughtful a moment later. "Perhaps it is not so bad as we think. Lady Ahnnie must be bored, constantly surrounded by those at least a decade older than her. It might do her some good to have someone her age in the Inquisition to talk to."

"We never denied Sera's helpfulness," Blackwall put in, "but you do have a point."

"Let us hope she does not get roped into whatever mischief this Sera cooks up," Madame Vivienne interjected as soon as she was done with the last porter. "Now that, I won't stand for."

* * *

"Ar dirthan'as ir elgara, ma'sula e'var vhenan."

Ahnnie turned in her saddle to look at Solas, assuming that he had been speaking to her. But she soon saw that the foreign sentence was meant for Sera. _Oh, that's right,_ Ahnnie thought, _they're both elves, and Sera probably knows a few words._ It made her a little sad that she was excluded in this respect, having neither the knowledge of Elvish nor opportunity to converse in Vietnamese with any of the companions. _Oh well; I'll just listen to what they say. Maybe I'll pick up a word or two._

Sera stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry. " _Pppbbthh_!"

Solas blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"'Scuse yourself," the elven archer retorted. "Whatever you said and what I did, same difference to me."

It was one of the rare times Ahnnie saw Solas well and truly flustered. "I'd hoped, well, our people can sometimes feel the rhythm of the language despite lacking the vocabulary," he said after a moment of stunned silence.

"Uh-huh," Sera nodded. "Know what else is good? Words that mean things. Like these. _Words_."

Solas left her alone after that, his face disturbed. Feeling bad for him, Ahnnie chimed in, "Elvish words mean something, too. It's just that we don't know what they mean." After some thought, she added, "Any sound has a meaning to it, actually; it just depends on how the listener perceives it."

"Very insightful, da'len," Solas smiled at her.

She beamed back at him, rather proud of herself for thinking that up.

Sera gave her a curious glance from the corner of her eye before pulling back her horse into step with the girl's. "So," she began, "you and him're sweet on each other, yeah?"

Ahnnie spluttered for several seconds, much to Sera's amusement. "N-no!" she yelled out a moment later, drawing looks from Cassandra and Blackwall ahead of them. "That's not how it is," she clarified in a more controlled voice, though her face was beet red. "He and I, we're not like that at all. We're more like, like–"

Sera chortled. "I never said _what kind_ of sweet!"

But Ahnnie frowned, still reeling from the shock. "U-usually, when someone says that..."

"Right, well don't get your panties in a bunch. It was just a joke. You know what those are? Jokes?" Before Ahnnie could reply, Sera continued, "Anyway, I was just curious. You seem close–"

"Not _that_ kind of close," Ahnnie interjected.

"–and you like the elfy language, yeah? Wanna know what'll make him real pleased to hear you say?"

"I thought you didn't know Elvish..."

"I picked up a few words here and there," Sera explained. "This one I got from the alienages. It's real useful. For, um, saying thanks, I think; with lots of respect."

Ahnnie couldn't help but have her interest piqued. "Really?"

"Yeah! C'mere." When she leaned her head in, the elf whispered the word into her ear. "And if you want to make it _more_ elfy, you gotta add this word–"

Ahnnie withdrew her head and practiced saying it a few times. "Like that?"

"You're a natural already," Sera winked.

"What does it mean?"

"He'll tell you when he hears it," Sera assured her. "Just go and make him proud."

Ahnnie found her opportunity when their party stopped for a small break on a hill. Itching to show off her new knowledge, she sat down next to Solas as soon as she had her horse hitched with the others'. He was settled against a boulder, unhooking the skin from his belt to take a much needed drink. "Solas, I don't think I ever told you how much I appreciate what you've done for me," she began.

"Mm?" he asked, his mouth still on the skin.

"I know this is random, but I just wanted to say..." She ran the words through her mind again, making sure she had them right. "...fenedhis lasa, hahren!"

All of a sudden, Solas spat and choked on his drink. With an alarmed gasp, Ahnnie struck his back vigorously, worried with every hacking cough that each one would be his last. Only after he had calmed down, albeit with a newly drenched shirtfront, did she dare to ask after him in a trembling voice.

"A-are you okay? Can you breathe? Does it hurt? If you need, I can go refill your skin–"

Solas coughed again and wiped the moisture from the corner of his mouth. "Where did you hear that from?" he asked, his voice wheezing.

"What?"

"What you just said..."

"You mean, fenedhi–"

"Yes!"

"I got it from Sera..." She gulped, the realization dawning upon her. "What does it mean...exactly?"

Solas coughed twice before he was able to speak again. "I shall try to put this in the politest terms possible. You, very cheerfully, told me to go...go pleasure myself with a wolf's...penis."

"...Huh?"

Seeing that she hadn't fully comprehended, he decided to be blunt. "Basically: 'Go fuck a wolf dick, elder'."

Ahnnie's eyes widened in horror. _Now_ she understood. " _Sera_!"

* * *

Blackwall hummed a sprightly tune as he moved the knife across the piece of wood. He blew off some sawdust and scraped the wood again, delicately shaving off a thin piece with the sharp blade. When he was done, he wiped off the excess sawdust and held out the wood to get a better look. "Ahnnie," he then called out, "tell me if this looks right."

The girl was at his side within a few seconds. "Yes?" she asked, curious.

He held out the freshly carved wood to her. "What do you think?"

Ahnnie bent down for a closer look and let out a gasp of awe. "Chopsticks!" she exclaimed. "You made chopsticks?"

Blackwall shrugged. "Just thought I'd give it a try. Well? Are they any good?"

The girl took the thin pair of sticks in her right hand and studied them for a bit. They were around seven to eight inches long, made of a medium toned wood, and were rounded on one end and pointed on the other. She knelt down and used them to pick at the snow, pretending it was rice; then, she picked up a leaf, and held it before her eyes. With a smile, she turned to the Warden. "They're well balanced and I really like the grip. The wood is a good one, too, nice and sturdy. I just think the ends should be a little smaller," she said, running a finger down a tapered point.

Blackwall nodded as she handed back the chopsticks to him. "Nothing too serious, then," he said. "They'll be done by the time we get to Haven, and hopefully I can find some resin to varnish them with. Then I can give them to you."

Ahnnie blinked. "Really?"

"Of course. I'm not the one who knows how to use them."

She felt touched. "You didn't have to..."

"I figured it's the least I could do, to make you less homesick." His eyes met hers apologetically. "There being no demons where you come from, and, well...what happened with the envy demon...I just don't want that to be your biggest impression of Thedas."

She smiled up at him. "I've forgotten it already," she reassured the Warden. "And thank you...I'll be sure to use them. The chopsticks, I mean."

His beard moved up in a gentle smile that made her feel warm despite the snowy air around them. But a shout from the templars stole his attention a moment later, as did Ahnnie's. In alarm, they found Knight-Captain Denam trying to break free of the five templars holding him down, and rushed over immediately to help them. Cassandra was there a split second later, as were Sera and Solas.

"Careful," Ser Fletcher cried, "he's gone mad!"

Captain Denam was writhing and screaming like a man set on fire. Even without his armor and weapon, the Knight-Captain boasted an unruly strength. It was not enough to surpass the five templars, but it certainly gave them a hard time. In his thrashing, he struck Ser Barris on the bandaged side of his face; with a curse, the templar struck back with an armored elbow, knocking an ugly bruise onto the Knight-Captain's temple.

Cassandra was about to order some of the templars back to use her ability, when Madame Vivienne flicked an imperious finger and sent a jolt of electricity down the Knight-Captain's spine. Ahnnie shut her eyes and ears upon hearing the buzz, freezing like so until Solas assured her it was over. When she opened her eyes, she saw the stunned Knight-Captain panting on the ground.

"Ugh! Just let me shoot one through his head already," Sera scowled, pointing her bow at Denam. "He's gone loony–"

"We need him for questioning," Cassandra interjected as she pushed through the templars to inspect him. "And thank you, Madame Vivienne – that was quick of you."

"My pleasure," the Enchanter nodded, stuffing her hand back into her fur muff.

Sera looked from Cassandra to Vivienne with a disgusted grimace. "Tough luck getting answers out of a loony," the archer muttered before stalking off. She re-shouldered her bow as she went, grumbling angrily to herself.

"Wait, Seeker," Solas said, drawing up to Cassandra's side. "Let me give him some of the sleeping draught. It'll help calm him down."

"Better double the dose," Blackwall advised. "Wouldn't want him rearing up like that again."

"Do you need any help?" Lady Josephine asked, peering worriedly over the Warden's shoulder. Behind her, Madame Vivienne's porters were watching the group with wary eyes, hoping they would not be called upon if assistance was required.

"I will be fine. He is still right now," the elven mage assured them all.

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip, watching Solas tend to the man with trepidation. Then she turned to Ser Barris, who was off to the side clutching his face in pain. She decided to ask after him, being unable to look at the Knight-Captain any longer. "Are you all right?" she asked the templar, settling onto the log beside him.

He seemed surprised at her approach, but did his best to muster up a smile. "I am fine, thank you."

"He hit you pretty hard..."

"It's of no consequence."

She nodded, looking off in another direction. "Is Sera right?" she asked at last. "That he's, um, not mentally sane."

Ser Barris grimaced and shrugged. "Perhaps," he ground out. "He wasn't right in the mind back at the headquarters, either. But at this point, I believe it's more a withdrawal from the red lyrium than any of its effects."

Again, this red lyrium. Just hearing about it made her want to shiver. "So if the red templars have been taking it...would they, too, experience the same thing?"

"I would assume so," Ser Barris affirmed. "Same thing with regular lyrium, although it's much less aggressive than the red variety."

Wait – "So there's regular lyrium?"

"Of course," the templar said, sounding surprised. "You didn't know? It's what gives us Templars the power to fuel our abilities. Mages sometimes take it to increase their mana as well."

She blinked. "Then...you guys have to keep taking lyrium, or else have withdrawals?"

Ser Barris nodded grimly. "Lyrium wears away at the mind even when taken regularly, so that's why you don't see many older templars in service," he added. "Stopping its consumption just brings on the side effects sooner. But it's worth it to do our duty; how else can we combat magic and demons? Luckily for the Seekers, they don't need to take it to use their abilities. That's why they're our superiors."

 _Man, lyrium sounds worse than steroids._ It made her wonder about Commander Cullen, and the other templars of the Inquisition. _Are they really doomed to the same fate? That sounds horrible!_ Why would the Chantry allow them to ruin themselves like that? It seemed a cruel twist of fate for an organization of warriors under the Andrastian faith. But they seemed convinced of its necessity, its virtue, even, as Ser Barris mentioned. She supposed, then, that it must be a powerful tool; _but is it really worth it, in the end?_

As for those who took red lyrium...well, one look at Captain Denam told her their path was no better, either.

* * *

Knight-Captain Denam gave them no more trouble on the way back to Haven, even as the Inquisition soldiers led him away to the dungeons beneath the Chantry. The only trouble they had was navigating through the howling snowstorm, which was much more intense than anything Ahnnie had ever seen blow through Haven. It was amazing anyone could navigate through the perpetual white curtain racing down from the sky, and that was not counting the knee-high snow.

Everyone was thus grateful for the chance to shut it all out in the stone halls of the Chantry. With a shiver, Ahnnie stomped off the excess snow from her boots and watched as the others rid themselves of their own crevices of snow. Blackwall in particular had parts of his beard frozen, little icicles hanging from the ends of his mustache so that his open mouth seemed like a cave.

"Great Maker!" the Warden swore. "That's going to take a while to recover from."

Sera was hiding her hands beneath her armpits, and was perhaps the one who took the brunt of the weather as she didn't think to bring enough winter clothing. "It's only 'cause you're the Inquisition, okay?" she told them all, her voice shivering. "But I'm not doing this again. _Ever_."

Josephine shook off her cloak and strutted frozenly towards her office, eager to take advantage of its fireplace. "Ah, Val Royeaux," she sighed. "I am missing you already."

Madame Vivienne on the other hand was too speechless to say anything, merely following the nearest Chantry sister to the first available room. She didn't even mind that her porters had to stable the mules immediately, rendering her luggage temporarily unavailable.

Ahnnie shook off the snow from her cap before plopping it back onto her head. "Jesus," she muttered, "is this Haven's winter? It's freezing!"

"It is Wintermarch now," Cassandra affirmed, "so yes, it is winter."

Ahnnie's eyes widened. _Wintermarch? That's like, January on Earth!_ Now that Cassandra mentioned it, though, she had noticed snow on the way back long before they reached the Frostbacks. "How long have we been away for this time?"

Solas tilted his head in thought. "I think about six weeks," he then said.

She ran the months through her head. If what Solas said was true, then they had been away for all of Haring and it was now a new year. Then she frowned as she thought even farther back. _Oh my god! I've been in Thedas for five months!_ If it was mid July when she came and Kingsway, the ninth month, in Thedas, then that meant it was now the middle of November back on Earth. How quickly time had passed her by!

Leliana and Cullen then emerged from deeper within the Chantry, bringing her mind back to attention. After exchanging a few words with Cassandra, they pulled the Herald into another war room council, and Josephine was summoned within a few minutes to attend it. This time around, hot spiced wine was available for all attendees, making the proceedings a little more bearable.

Josephine took center stage for the first part of it, informing the two others of the progress made in Val Royeaux. "You should prepare to send another regiment to the capital soon," the ambassador then told Commander Cullen. "The Chantry has now welcomed Inquisition protection at the Grand Cathedral."

"That sounds like good news," the Commander nodded. "A shame the templars abandoned their senses as well as the capital, though."

"Speaking of which, we've received word from Grand Enchanter Fiona in Redcliffe that the rebel mages are amenable to an alliance," the spymaster said. "With the Chantry no longer a threat, this means we now have an opening to approach the templars and mages."

Ahnnie fidgeted. "But, about the templars–"

"We've put the Lord Seeker on the defensive with our aid to the Chantry," Cullen assured her, an encouraging smile on his face. "It might take some time, but something can be reached with them. I'm certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker."

She shook her head. "No, there are no templars to negotiate with. Like, at _all_."

Both Leliana and Cullen blinked at her. "What?" the Commander asked, dumbfounded.

Josephine heaved a weary sigh. "Unfortunately..." And she began to relate to them the events at the Seeker headquarters, sparing no details except for the specifics of Ahnnie's attempted possession, which she did not know of anyway. "The only templars we have on our side are five knights who escaped the battle with us."

The news took the wind out of Cullen's sails. Ahnnie felt bad for him as she imagined the thoughts that were probably running through his head. _It must not be easy to hear something like that about a group he was part of._ Then she turned to Cassandra, wondering what the Seeker thought not only of Lucius' betrayal, but the disappearance of the other Seekers – _this Elder One...he doesn't want them in Thedas, and the red templars probably took the remaining Seekers away with them. She's always so serious, though; it's hard to tell what she's thinking.  
_

"Well," Leliana said. "That leaves only the mages."

Commander Cullen was speechless for a few seconds, looking as though someone had just murdered his best friend in front of his face. "Knight-Captain Denam is imprisoned below, you say?" he murmured a moment later. "Yes, I'll look into it...and I'll see what I can do for Ser Barris and the other templars..."

Ahnnie sipped her wine, unable to look into the Commander's haunted face. Instead, she listened to Cassandra, taking solace in the Seeker's confident voice.

"We will prepare to leave for Redcliffe, then. We will require soldiers like last time, however; there's no knowing if this invitation is a trap set by the mages."

"Of course," Leliana agreed. "What happened in Val Royeaux cannot be repeated. In that case, I have a solution that can save us the soldiers from Haven."

Cassandra nodded. "Please."

"While you were away, a young man by the name of Cremisius Aclassi came bearing a message for the Inquisition." Leliana paced about the war table as she spoke. "Apparently, he comes from the Bull's Chargers mercenary company, and his commander – a Qunari by the name of Iron Bull – has offered to assist the Inquisition. We need only come to the Storm Coast to see a demonstration of their prowess and work out negotiations from there. My latest report from Harding indicates she is in the Storm Coast right now; you could meet with this Iron Bull first, giving my people down in Redcliffe time to secure the area, then travel with Harding and her regiment south to the Hinterlands."

"That seems a sound plan to me," the Seeker agreed.

"Whatever works best," Josephine said when Ahnnie looked at her.

Commander Cullen appeared to have recovered from his shock, though his face was still grim. "Very well. It'll give us the time we need to hold an advantage over the mages. Whether or not we gain anything with the Bull's Chargers will not be so important, so long as we can ensure Redcliffe's safety for the Herald."

Ahnnie said nothing as the matter was then decided. What followed were merely the deliberations on logistics, supplies, and routes. She only stayed long enough to finish her spiced wine; when even that was done, she interrupted Leliana to be excused from the room. "I'm still a bit tired from the journey," she said, "and I'm not feeling all that well, either."

A Chantry sister showed her to a guest room a moment later, as the blizzard was still going strong through the town. Ahnnie couldn't care less. She threw off her coat the moment she was alone and crashed down onto the bed for a much needed slumber.


	22. Chapter 20

_Only one day to recuperate in Haven – might as well make the best of it._

It surprised even her, but she willingly went to Corporal Hargrave first thing in the morning to get polearms lessons out of the way. The talk in the Chantry wasn't anything she cared to listen to; Knight-Captain Denam was being interrogated, and all anyone seemed to think about was the mysterious Elder One. It was this Elder One who had corrupted the templars, and it was he who threatened to destroy the Seekers. _He m_ _ight as well be aiming to bring the sky down,_ Ahnnie thought. Upon mentioning the sky, she thought of the Breach – _I don't suppose he has something to do with it too?_ That didn't seem unlikely, given the other conspiracies discovered in the Seeker headquarters.

She stumbled a while later into the Singing Maiden, determined not to let this invisible Elder One ruin her day. It was still daytime, despite the cloud covered sky outside, so there were no patrons yet in the tavern. Ahnnie doubted there would be any today; the snowstorm was over, but there was no knowing if it would pick up again. Netta was the first person to notice her, as she was playing in the empty dining area with three yipping furballs.

"You've returned!" the little girl cheered, racing for Ahnnie. But a puppy swerved in her direction, causing her to trip.

Ahnnie gasped and jumped forward to catch the child in her arms. "Be careful!" she chided as she raised Netta to her feet. "If you run, they run too." As if on cue, a tiny puppy the size of a chihuahua started chewing on her boot, yanking wildly at the leather.

Netta found it amusing and scooped the puppy into her arms. "Look!" she exclaimed. "This is Charley! Say hello to the Herald of Andraste, Charley!"

Charley did so by panting and sticking out his tongue. Ahnnie laughed and scratched the puppy behind the ears, delighting in the cottony texture of his baby fur. He was a dusty brown color with a spot of white on his left ear; she noticed he might grow to have pointed ears later, as the right one was sticking straight up while the left was folded halfway. Before she could get a closer look, Charley turned his head to give her fingers a playful nibble, which alternately tickled and stung from his sharp teeth.

"And then this is Maiden, and that's Pepper!"

Netta let Charley down to point out his littermates. Maiden was a sleek female pup with dark brown fur, so dark it was almost black, and dainty white sock markings on her feet; Pepper, a thickset male with wild straw-colored fur interspersed with a timber undercoat. It was almost hilarious how different each pup was from the other. Ahnnie could see how their facial structure and eyes might resemble their mother, but their motley coloring and Pepper's long, floppy ears whereas Maiden and Charley had pointed ones made them seem like different dogs altogether.

Unable to resist, Ahnnie bent down and beckoned to them with kissy noises and wiggling fingers. "C'mere, babies! D'aww, who's a good boy? Who's a good girl? You guys are!"

In the blink of an eye, all three ran over to her, catching her fingers in their mouths and jumping into her lap to bite the fur edge of her coat. She let out a shriek and tumbled backwards, closing her eyes as the puppies fell along and started licking her face. Charley then yanked on her hair while Pepper stuck his nose through it to sniff her ear; every little action made her laugh harder, and she squealed with delight as she caught hold of Maiden, hugging the squirming pup close as she turned onto her side.

 _It's been way too long since I've last done this!_ She then swore to spend as much time as possible with them when she next returned to Haven. _They won't be this small for long, and I'm not sure Flissa wants Lady giving them younger siblings._

Netta laughed and joined in, tickling Ahnnie's open side with her childish fingers. The pups then diverted their attention to her, and Maiden was finally able to kick free to join her brothers. It gave Ahnnie the opening she needed to sit up and wheeze out the last of her mirth.

"Netta, what's all the noise about?" Ahnnie half-expected Flissa to emerge from the stairway, but it was Nala instead. "Oh, your ladyship–"

"Yes, I'm back," Ahnnie smiled, rising breathlessly to her feet. "But only for a day; I have to travel out to the Storm Coast first thing in the morning."

"Aww," Netta pouted, a puppy tugging on her shawl. "But you were away for so long! You missed First Day!"

She gave her an apologetic smile. "I know. Inquisition business, though. I'll be back soon, and hopefully for longer. And who knows – if a blizzard makes the roads impassable, I might not have to go so soon." _That would be nice. Oh Maker, or whoever you are, please make a blizzard to delay the trip, at least for another day..._ Then, noticing the bowl in Nala's hands, she asked, "Tending to patients up there?"

The elven girl trotted down the steps and jumped merrily off the last one. "A few guests have employed Master Adan's services. Mostly winter illnesses; colds, fevers, agues." She shrugged. "Nothing serious."

Netta stopped pouting to giggle slyly. "But last week, she panicked over a handsome soldier with a head cold–"

Nala spluttered and blushed, almost dropping the bowl in her consternation. "N-Netta!"

Ahnnie raised her eyebrows. "Ooh, Netta, do tell!"

Nala whirled from Netta to Ahnnie in a frenzied turn. "O-oh, your ladyship, 'twas nothing! Really! Pay no attention to Netta – she's merely jesting!"

The both of them laughed at Nala's expense. But deciding to be merciful, Ahnnie stopped sooner than Netta did. "Okay," she breathed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, "I was just playing with you. Still, what's this about a handsome soldier? Did you catch someone's eye, Nala?"

"Of course not, your ladyship!" the elf protested. "I am very plain, as you can see."

Some of the fun died away at this self-deprecation, so Ahnnie rephrased the question. "Did someone catch _your_ eye?"

Nala's cheeks bloomed redder. "I believe Netta is referring to the soldier from the Storm Coast. He arrived in town some time ago."

"Last week," Netta reminded her, much to her distress.

Ahnnie blinked, remembering what Leliana said. "Is his name Cremisius Aclassi, by any chance?"

"That'd be me."

All three girls turned their heads in unison to find a brawny young man coming down the stairs. _Whoa,_ Ahnnie thought. _He_ is _handsome._ Cremisius possessed a firm-jawed oval face and dark hooded eyes, set against a complexion of ruddy olive skin – if this weren't Thedas, he could have been an athletic male model. She could tell why Nala might panic over him; she herself felt her cheeks warm when he turned his gaze over to her. Something seemed off with his voice, though, kind of like it was still going through puberty and hadn't yet dropped in tone. Ahnnie dismissed it, figuring it was just an individual quality. _Or is he really that young? He doesn't look like it..._

Netta giggled. "It's him!"

"Netta!" Nala cried, turning her head aside when Cremisius looked at her.

The corner of his mouth turned up in an amused smirk before he finally reached the bottom of the steps. Almost immediately, the puppies swarmed over his feet, excited by the presence of another person in the room. He gave out a hearty laugh before telling Netta to get Flissa for a beer. "Nothing better than sitting before a fire with a good mug on a cold winter's day," he said, watching the little girl run into the kitchen.

At that, Nala jolted. "Would you like for me to stoke the fire? It's gotten rather low."

"Please," he nodded.

The elven girl put the bowl on the table and jumped to it, jabbing at the logs with the fireplace poker in an attempt to raise the flames. While she was thus occupied, Ahnnie found herself uncomfortably alone with Cremisius. All of a sudden, she was conscious of everything she did, even the littlest twitch of her fingers. When the silence became unbearable, she made an attempt at a casual remark: "Those puppies...are real cute, huh?"

"Ha, yeah," he agreed, giving them a cursory look. Then his eyes were back on her. "So, you're the Herald?"

"That's right," Netta answered for her, skipping back into the dining area while a serving girl handed the young man his beer.

"Care for a drink?" Cremisius then asked, settling into a chair by the fireplace.

"Oh..." Ahnnie looked at the door, then at Cremisius. "I'd love to, but I've got to get ready for tomorrow. 'Cause I'm leaving for the Storm Coast...tomorrow."

"I'm sure you could spare some time. I'm going too, you know."

Ahnnie put a hand to her forehand, laughing nervously. "Right! How could I forget? So silly of me."

In the end, she was convinced to sit for a spell, though she didn't drink. Nala was called up by Master Adan, leaving them more or less alone; Netta still played with the puppies behind them, her squeals and their yips sounding out occasionally in the background.

"I'm Ahnnie, by the way," Ahnnie began. "I'd prefer if you could call me that instead of 'Herald'."

"Fair enough," Cremisius nodded.

She gave him a moment of silence to enjoy his beer, staring awhile into the flames. When he said nothing, however, she got a little fidgety and turned away from the fireplace. "So, uh," she began, "you're from the Bull's Chargers mercenary company? Did I say it right?"

"Yup."

"Cool. I mean, great. What're they like?"

Cremisius took another swig and let out a sigh of satisfaction after he swallowed. "We're loyal, we're tough, and we don't break contracts," he said. "I guarantee we're the best you'll find. Ask around Val Royeaux; we've got references."

She chuckled. "Well, I would have done that, if we were still there. But of course, Leliana might, 'cause it's not too late to...ask for references. I mean, we're still going to the Storm Coast anyway, so..." _God, I'm so lame! Pull yourself together, girl!_ "Ahem, yeah. What about your commander? What's he like?"

"Iron Bull? He's one of those Qunari. You know – the big guys with the horns?"

"I know about them," she nodded.

"He leads from the front, he pays well, and he's a lot smarter than the last bastard I worked for." Cremisius grinned. "Best of all, he's professional. We accept contracts with whoever makes the first real offer; you're the first time he's gone out of his way to pick a side."

Ahnnie tilted her head, intrigued. "Really? Why would he do that?"

"Iron Bull wants to work for the Inquisition," the young man explained. "He thinks you're doing good work."

 _So did Madame Vivienne, when she asked to join. And Sera, too._ It then occurred to her, though it really should have much sooner, that people were starting to believe in the Inquisition. _How many more will ask to join with us?_ she wondered, thinking about their most recent allies and the request from the mages in Redcliffe. Very soon, the Inquisition might no longer be the little foundling organization it originally was. _That's going to take some getting used to._ And to think it all started with an angry Seeker in the Chantry's council room...

Was it just her, or was she getting a little sentimental?

"Well then, the Inquisition can't wait to meet him," Ahnnie replied at length, smiling.

* * *

They set off from Haven in the small hours of the morning: Cassandra, Ahnnie, Solas, Varric, Sera, and Blackwall, with Cremisius Aclassi.

The more Ahnnie learned about the Iron Bull, the more she looked forward to meeting with his company. She had never seen a Qunari before – from what little she knew, she imagined them to be big, minotaur-like people, with a bull's head and hooves. What little illustrations that were available from books in the Chantry library didn't do them justice in her opinion, and there was that nagging suspicion that the illustrators weren't aiming for accuracy. It felt awkward to ask such specific questions about Iron Bull's appearance, however, and she didn't want to come across as offensive, so she opted to leave Cremisius alone in that respect and wait until she actually saw the Qunari commander for herself.

Instead, she inquired more about Iron Bull as a person. In addition to what Cremisius told her in the tavern, Iron Bull was not only fair but daring, humorous, and a natural charismatic leader. His people liked him and were loyal for more than just the pay. He actually listened to them, rather than flaunting his status as commander. And he treated them like family, braving danger for their sakes and looking after them as if they were his own. In fact, he lost his left eye saving Cremisius' life.

"In case you didn't know, I'm from Tevinter. I was soporati – not a slave or a mage, just a regular citizen. Even citizens have it rough if they're not mages, though. I was a soldier, but women join the ranks under a different program. When they found out I was passing, it got ugly. I ran, hid out in a border town tavern...then a tribune and his men found me out. They meant to make an example of me. The guards had me on the floor when Bull came inside and yelled for them to stop. One of them saw trouble coming and figured he'd finish me off. The guard had a flail; Bull put himself between me and the blow. Gave up his eye doing that. Big horned idiot...didn't even know me." Cremisius shook his head. "Then he patched me up and asked if I was looking for work. I've been putting up with his jokes ever since; not a life I'd wish on everyone, but it'll do."

The story was a touching one, and Ahnnie was in more awe of this Qunari commander than she had been previously. It was not an easy thing to give up an eye for a stranger, after all. It was also from there that Ahnnie discovered why Cremisius' voice seemed off to her. "They don't make it easy for women in the Tevinter army?"

"Women are allowed to serve, but only in certain ranks and disciplines," he explained. "I was up for promotion, but the healer I'd bribed to sign off my physical had to tend a sick magister. When the replacement healer saw what was, or wasn't, in my pants, he made threats. It was slavery or death, so I knocked him out and ran."

She nodded, eyes thoughtful. "If you don't mind my asking...why did you decide to live as a man? You're not in the army anymore, and..."

Cremisius' voice hardened. "I didn't decide anything. I've been like this my whole life. My parents wanted me to marry up; they tried to find me a nice merchant's son. Every day I'd put on a dress, look into my father's shaving mirror and just...hate myself."

Hearing the pain in his voice, Ahnnie was immediately regretful. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like I was...being presumptuous. It must have been difficult with your family thinking a certain way, against your wishes."

"You can say that again," Cremisius agreed with a dry laugh. "My mother wanted to throw me out. She said if I didn't marry well, I was dooming the family to slavery. She was happy to take the money I sent as a soldier, though. Not that it mattered in the end. My father..." His eyes softened. "When I was little, he'd angle his mirror down so I could pretend to shave, just like him. He never said anything, but I think he knew."

Then she learned of how Cremisius' father, once a tailor, was driven out of business when a magister's slaves mass produced peasant clothing and sold them for next to nothing. Having no way to compete with such low prices, he was forced to sell himself into slavery. "He's one of the servus publicus, the Imperium-owned slaves, now."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, suddenly thinking of her own father. "I hope you get to meet him again, someday."

The young man shrugged. "It's been a while, so not very likely. Don't even know if he's still alive." Noticing the sorrow in her eyes, he asked, "Does it matter to you that much?"

Ahnnie let out a sigh, watching it vaporize in the snowy air until it faded into nothing. "I just think that, well, with family you can still identify with...those who really care..." She shrugged. "They should be kept close. And I wish everyone could have that chance."

"Huh, yeah... _hachoo!_ "

"Are you all right?"

Cremisius held a finger to the bottom of his nose and sniffed. "I'm fine. It's just the cold."

* * *

Winter on the Storm Coast was rainy and soggy. Then again, as Varric told her, the Storm Coast had always been rainy and soggy; hence its name.

"The air is nice," Sera chirped from her saddle, drawing incredulous stares from some of the others. "What?" she asked. "It is."

"You're weird," Ahnnie teased with a mock shake of her head. "It's _miserable_ out here." The only thing of interest was that there were old Dwarven ruins dotting the coast. According to both Solas and Varric, anyway. She'd yet to see one. _Do_ _those pillar things sticking out of the ground count as ruins? Or are they just regular rock formations?_

"I've got a friend who's a ship captain," Varric remarked. "She would love this place."

"Yeah, see that?" Sera said, pointing at Varric. "I'm not the only one."

"Okay, okay," Ahnnie conceded. "But just saying. You're the last person I'd think who would compliment all this..." She shook some water off of her hood. "...rain." She grimaced. "You're right, Varric; there's nothing worse than being wet and cold on horseback. I mean, I'm not drenched, but...ugh."

The dwarf simply chuckled in return. She was glad to see him happy, though; ever since he learned about what happened in the Seeker headquarters, he'd been very grim, particularly when it came to red lyrium. Knight-Captain Denam's interrogation hadn't gone all that great, no thanks to his deepening red lyrium withdrawal. That only served to exacerbate Varric's convictions, and it was with a heavy heart that he had disclosed to her how red lyrium drove his brother to madness. "Like I said, don't ever touch it. The stuff's pure evil. And with the templars on it..." He shook his head.

They turned up a bend in the path that took them up a hill. Within a few minutes, their horses trotted up to a camp situated on a level yet pebbly ground. Inquisition forces welcomed them, and a familiar female dwarf came forward to address Ahnnie. "Herald! For what it's worth, welcome to the Storm Coast."

Ahnnie dismounted from her Forder. "Nice to see you again, Harding," she greeted back. "Can't say I like the Storm Coast, though." The others around her dismounted as well to take shelter from the rain, and Ahnnie followed Harding beneath a tarp canopy as a soldier led the horses away.

"I would have sent word sooner, but our efforts have been...delayed," Harding said, slicking back a strand of rain dampened hair from her forehead.

"How so?" Ahnnie asked.

"There's a group of bandits operating in the area," the dwarven scout explained. "They know the terrain, and our small party has had trouble going up against them. Some of our soldiers went to speak with their leader. Haven't heard back, though."

That didn't sound good. Without the soldiers, they wouldn't be able to leave for Redcliffe with the force as planned. "I'll tell Cassandra about it," she said. "I'm sure she'll want us to do what we can to find our people." _Maybe if things go well with the Bull's Chargers, they can help us out._

"Thank you," Harding smiled. "That's a relief."

She told the Seeker as promised while the others were warming up under similar canopies, beneath which burned small yet bright fires. Cassandra nodded knowingly and answered just as Ahnnie wanted her to. "We must help our soldiers; these bandits sound troublesome."

"Harding said they didn't know where the bandits were, exactly, but were searching farther down the beach." As she continued to speak, her eyes turned to Cremisius. "I was thinking the Bull's Chargers could help us with that. They've been in the Storm Coast awhile, and probably know the place better than we do. Plus, they'll give us more people to fight with."

Cremisius grinned back at her, pleased by this suggestion.

Cassandra blinked and stared at her for a few moments. "That is very strategic of you. You are...getting better at this."

Ahnnie shrugged and struggled to suppress the warmth spreading on her cheeks. Was this a bit of praise from the Seeker? It wasn't as if she couldn't think of something like that...then again, it was probably the first time she didn't simply ask Cassandra for the next course of action. "Thanks, I guess."

"Let me know when we head out," Cremisius then said, his eyes bright. "Can't wait to meet up with the chief again, and to start cracking some bandit skulls. It's been far too long."

* * *

"The Waking Sea," Varric murmured. "Somewhere across all that water is Kirkwall."

Sera shielded her eyes as she peered out over the crashing waves. "Can't even see the other shore. That's...far." She sniffed. "I smell seaweed. How do I know seaweed?"

"Maybe 'cause it smells salty and...weedy."

"Ha! Good one," Sera laughed, clapping Ahnnie on the back.

She cringed from the force of Sera's hand and gave the elf a half-stinted smile. Walking in the rain wasn't any better, she soon discovered. The air was cold and wet, and the salt smell of the sea even more pungent than it seemed on a normal day. _In short...I hate rain._

"This is where the Bull's Chargers are?" Blackwall asked Cremisius, looking out over the gray landscape.

"Don't sweat it," the young man assured him. "Even if they've moved camp, they'll have left a sign to let me know. Us Chargers are resourceful."

"Hmm." Cassandra looked about them. "I can't imagine this an ideal place to camp, not unless you were part of a landing party."

"Tevinter mercenaries," Cremisius grinned. "We wanted to surprise them."

 _Mercenaries versus mercenaries,_ Ahnnie thought, idly. _Who would win?_

The question would be answered when they came up to an outcropping of rock on the beach. Beyond it echoed the sounds of fighting; Cremisius unsheathed his sword when he saw who the combatants were. "All right! They found the bloody Vints! Ha, and there's the chief, if I ever saw him!"

Ahnnie peered over the rock to try to see where Cremisius was pointing. She saw a big pair of horns, wide and prong-shaped like a giant angus cow's, swinging above the press of strangely dressed people ( _the 'Vints', I think_ ), but a wagonful of barrels blocked the rest of him from view. "So, then–" But when she turned around to address Cremisius, the Charger had already disappeared. Sera fell into his place a moment later, an arrow aimed down on a Tevinter mercenary.

"Slowpokes don't cut it," the elf told her as she loosed the arrow. It struck the mercenary clean through the thigh, bringing him down to his knees.

Ahnnie grinned. "Right." She withdrew the glaive from her back and slid forward on the rock, landing with a pebbly flourish onto the graveled ground below. Before the mercenary could attempt to recompose himself, she dealt him a swinging blow on the back of his head with the blunt edge of her glaive's blade. _I think that's strong enough to keep him out for a bit,_ she thought, watching him fall limply on his face. _And i_ _t'll help dull the pain for him temporarily._ Sera's arrow went in pretty deep, after all.

She ducked behind the wagon of barrels a moment later when an enemy arrow landed on the ground by her feet. With a careful look out, she saw the archer aiming from behind the cover of a fallen white tree near the water, watching the wagon for any sign of movement. When he found none, he turned his attention to new targets. She took that chance to dash out, heading for the nearest point of cover. An icy missile flew past her back, freezing a Tevinter swordsman mid-swing and leaving him open for the more plainly dressed Chargers to hack him down.

"Watch out!" Ahnnie cried, pushing Varric aside. The arrow missed him by a long shot anyway, but it brought the hidden archer into focus.

"Thanks," the dwarf nodded at her. "We should do something about him," he then pointed out after firing a shot at another mercenary.

"You take him on the front while I go around back?" she asked, noting the open path round the fallen tree.

Varric grinned. "Just what I was thinking. Cassandra's right; you _are_ getting better at this stuff."

She tried to ignore his almost sarcastic tone as she headed around the tree's trunk. If there was anything she learned from past combat experience, it was that there was no time for nervous dilly-dallying. Decisions had to be made on the spot, and they had to have strategic merit; both for her own personal survival, and the success of her team. _I seem to have the most luck with archers,_ she thought dryly, remembering the ones in the Hinterlands.

The dwarven rogue jumped atop the overturned hull of a boat the archer was kneeling on, shooting out with an arrow from Bianca. The stunned man loosed the bigger arrow nocked in his bow, sending it in a wild ricochet against the branches of the white tree as he turned. The arrow zipped past Ahnnie's face, slicing into her cheek with a horizontal gash as she came up from the boat's other side.

She shut her eyes upon feeling the arrow's impact, but shook it off as best as she could. While Varric kept the man occupied with well-timed kicks and punches, Ahnnie shot in from behind with an angry slice from her glaive followed by a whirling stab from the bladed end. The archer dropped the dagger he had been ready to strike out with, and Ahnnie pulled him back so Varric could send a final arrow through his chest before the both of them knocked the dead body into the shoreline below.

"Shit, you all right?" he asked when he saw the blood dripping from her face. Ahnnie just shook her head as she bent down amongst the white branches to peer at the battle beyond. It seemed to have already turned in the Charger's favor even before their arrival, but Cassandra and Blackwall were making good progress against some mercenary swordsmen while Solas' ice magic bought them an advantage, as always. Interestingly enough, there was also magic shooting out at the Tevinters from a different angle, meaning the Chargers had a mage on their side. _Don't these Tevinters have mages too?_ she wondered as she scanned their ranks. Oh well – all the better for the Inquisition and Chargers.

"Well, I'm going to keep aim from up here," Varric said. "Keep 'em confused about who's on whose side."

"Good idea," she breathed, and slid down from the boat to sneak back into the fray.

She crept up behind a mercenary on Cassandra's side, slicing through his whitish-grey uniform with a swipe to his flank. He whirled around met her glaive with his blade, parrying and stabbing in a series of movements that were different from what she was used to seeing. She kept up as best as she could, all the while wondering whether the Tevinter's motions were an example of foreign swordplay. It was formal, disciplined, and well-measured...and it was not so interesting anymore when it threatened to break through her defense, forcing her feet back on the pebbly beach.

But before she could assume the worst, a giant hammer crashed into the mercenary's body, sending him through the air like a weightless rag doll. She gaped in shock at the flying man, watching him spin out into the shoreline, then up at the large shadow cast over her.

With one powerful swipe, the hulking gray giant before her dashed the remaining line of mercenaries aside with his great battlehammer. When a few more mercenaries got brave and tried to charge him, he lowered his head and rammed into them with his horns, throwing them aside with a wild toss like an agitated bull in the rodeo. Seeing the Tevinters now pushed into a pitiful state, he held up his arm and let out an echoing bellow: "Chargers, stand down!"

Though not immediately, the Chargers slowed their attacks until, like clockwork, the last of them stopped and regrouped towards the giant. There were not many enemies left for them anyway, beyond the wounded and the fleeing. If the Inquisition hadn't arrived, they would have taken care of the mercenaries in due time; they were more numerous than the Inquisition's smaller party, outnumbering them by perhaps two to one. But they tolerated the Inquisition's presence nonetheless, sending curious glances at the new party.

"Krem, how'd we do?" the gray giant barked, looking out across the beach towards an exhilarated Cremisius.

"Five or six wounded, chief," the young man barked back. "No dead."

The giant chuckled, a deep and throaty sound. "That's what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks." When he turned back around to look down at Ahnnie, he found the girl's stare frozen on him, as though she'd been struck by one of Solas' ice bolts. "Hey." He waved a big hand in front of her face. "You in there?"

Ahnnie shut her open mouth and put a hand to her cheek. "Uh, I'm sorry," she stammered a moment later, "I just..."

He chuckled good-naturedly, and then noticed the green on her hand. "Well, if it isn't the Herald herself. Glad you could make it." With a jarring clap to the back, he steered her towards the Chargers. "Come on, have a seat; drinks are coming."

* * *

The Iron Bull was beyond her imagination. If she thought dwarves and elves were strange when she first saw them, the Qunari sitting before her was a completely different story.

Even when sitting, he towered over everybody, putting his overall height at around seven or eight feet. He had no bull's head or hooves, but was a massive rendition of the human body with great, sloping shoulders and a gigantic torso twice the size of the biggest bodybuilder's. He exposed plenty of it, wearing nothing but a large pair of baggy pants fixed above his waist and what looked like a shoulder strap with a leather chest harness. His face seemed the most normal part of his body, sporting angular, Arabic features and a stubbly beard on the elegantly pointed chin. Of course, she couldn't forget the eye patch – Cremisius' story came back to mind as soon as she laid eyes on it.

But it was the horns that fascinated her most. Dark and bony, they jutted emphatically from the skin at his forehead, altering the upper part of his skull to an upside-down triangle shape. How they didn't weigh him down was a mystery; if she held out her arms and bent them upwards, then the horns would be around the length of her upper arms, but with a much bulkier width. The rest of his head looked small in comparison; perhaps that was why his neck and shoulders were so large, and in turn, the rest of his body.

All in all, Ahnnie couldn't believe she was staring at a real living being. Part of her tried to explain it away as some intricate trick of costumes and makeup, for how could anyone be so big? And horned? But whenever she looked at him again, saw the rain-slicked skin patterned with scars, veins, and muscles, too detailed to be crafted, she knew it was no trick. It was real – _he_ was real.

"I assume you know Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant," said the Qunari as Cremisius came forward with a handkerchief for her.

Ahnnie took it gratefully and put it up to her wound.

"Good to see you again, chief," Cremisius nodded at Iron Bull. "Throatcutters are done."

"Already? Have 'em check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem," he chuckled.

"None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?" Cremisius asked as he turned and walked away.

Iron Bull chuckled again and shook his head. "Ah, that kid..." Then he returned his attention to her. "So...you've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it...and I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us."

"Oh, I'm not sure I can speak for all the, uh, Inquisition," she stammered, heart practically stopping at the word 'expensive'. "It's not my money to...well, dispense..."

"It wouldn't cost you anything personally, unless you wanna buy drinks later," he put in. "Your ambassador – what's her name – Josephine? We'd go through her and get the payments set up."

"Okay..."

"The gold will take care of itself," he assured her. "Don't worry about that. All that matters is we're worth it."

 _I hope Cassandra and Josephine think so. Not that I don't, but...expensive..._ she hated that word. _Well, they_ are _mercenaries. They have to make a living too. Hopefully, they won't be any of those purse-bleeders Josephine talked about._

"The Bull's Chargers seem like an excellent company," she said at length, and meant it.

"They are," Iron Bull agreed. "But you're not just getting the boys. You're getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard, I'm your man. Whatever it is – demons, dragons? The bigger the better." Then he paused. "There's one other thing; might be useful, might piss you off."

Ahnnie wondered what it was. _If anyone's getting pissed off though, it's most likely Cassandra._

He made her even more curious when he gestured for her to rise and follow him to a more secluded spot down the beach. "Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?" he asked once they were well out of earshot.

She frowned, thinking. "No, I haven't."

"It's a Qunari order," he explained. "They handle information, loyalty, security; all of it. Spies, basically. Or, well, _we're_ spies."

Ahnnie blinked. "Huh?"

"The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach," Iron Bull went on. "Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what's happening. But I also _get_ reports from Ben Hassrath agents all over Orlais," he quickly added. "You sign me on, I'll share them with your people."

She felt as though he had bashed a pair of cymbals over her head. "You're a spy, and you're telling me all this?" she asked incredulously, mixed feelings swirling in her stomach. _What would Cassandra think?_ _Or Leliana? And I suggested for the Chargers to help_ _us_...She squeezed the handkerchief now down at her side. _Dear god, what have I done–_

But Iron Bull met her skeptical eyes with a determined look. "Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it's bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I'm on your side."

"You...you still could have kept that part to yourself," she pointed out, frowning. "So why...?"

He raised an eyebrow. "From something called the Inquisition? Heh. I'd've been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me."

 _True._ But she was still apprehensive. What did he stand to gain from being so open? Their trust, surely, and if they trusted him too much..."I hope you don't mind if I ask some more questions," she said at length.

"No, go on," he nodded.

"What would you send in your reports to the Ben-Hassrath?"

To his credit, his answers were forthcoming and flowed easily. "Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that'll compromise your operations," he promised. "The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart. You let me send word of what you're doing, it'll put some minds at ease. That's good for everyone."

 _Oh, yay. A Qunari invasion._ Led by more horned giants like him, all over Thedas. _That's reassuring!_ "What about the reports you'd give us?"

"Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip..." He shrugged his great shoulders. "It's a bit of everything. Alone, they're not much, but if your spymaster is worth a damn, she'll put 'em up to good use."

"Oh, you know Leliana?"

Iron Bull chuckled. "I did a little research. Plus, I've always had a weakness for redheads."

 _I guess if he knows Josephine, then he knows Leliana..._ She frowned, thinking over what he said. His being a spy for a totally different organization didn't seem appetizing, but his promise of reports from that same organization did. Then there were the Inquisition soldiers they wanted to rescue from the bandits; it wasn't as if they were desperate for reinforcements, but the Chargers might prove to be an invaluable addition. "I have to discuss this with Cassandra," she said. "I'll be right back."

It was with nervous anticipation that Ahnnie walked back down the beach to meet with the Seeker. Part of her wished she could stop playing charades and just let Cassandra talk to the Qunari already, but Iron Bull had been adamant that it be the Herald he spoke with. Something about dealing with the marked one herself; perhaps he wanted to know what she was like, or wanted to gain as much of an advantage as possible against a greenhorn. Regardless of what it was, his mention of the Ben-Hassrath left a sour taste in her mouth.

After much deliberation, Cassandra finally reached a decision. When Ahnnie returned to the Iron Bull, it was to say this: "You run your reports past Leliana before sending them, and you send nothing she doesn't approve. If this turns out to be a trick, or if your reports compromise the Inquisition, you will have to answer to Seeker Cassandra." Basically, Cassandra's threatening words rendered to mush in her not-so-threatening voice.

The Iron Bull cracked a smile, surprising her yet again. "Wouldn't have it any other way." With a look back at the others on the beach, he shouted, "Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!"

"What about the casks, chief?" Krem shouted back. "We just opened them up. With axes!"

"Find some way to seal them," he ordered. "You're Tevinter, right? Try blood magic."

"Very funny, chief!"

"Our camp is not too far away," Ahnnie put in. "You could bring the casks back there. I don't know if Cremisius told you yet, but we'll need your help pretty soon against some bandits in the area."

"Even better," Iron Bull grinned, and clapped her on the back again.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

* * *

 **A/N:** To Guest on Dec. 26 – I'm glad you like the fic, but I'd just like to point out that whether someone stays depressed or moves on from a traumatic event is largely up to their individual mentality. Psychology is a very tricky subject and some people might not feel comfortable being sad all the time, while others can't help _but_ feel sad, or some combination of both. As to fictional character development, it is true that it gets annoying when an author over emphasizes depression for pity mongering. Then again, it wouldn't be right for a character to forget all about their pain in the blink of an eye. So I totally get what you mean, but basically, it boils down to _what_ the author intends and _how_ it is implemented when the character feels a certain way. Just my two cents.


	23. Chapter 21

He strode towards the palisade, taking measured steps on the rocky path ahead of him. Rain drizzled through the treetops, splattering him lightly in the face and blonde hair. As he neared the wooded gates, he could hear the guards smirking upon recognizing the crest around his neck.

"Someone's come with a challenge?"

"The others failed."

He ignored their jibes and pressed on as they opened the gate. Skulls embedded in the dirt grinned up at him, trophies of past conquests...gruesome reminders of the others who failed.

Not that this was going to faze him.

He entered the little fort within, a grassy space occupied by hastily built wooden structures and muddy paths laid over with planks. To the far right, one of those paths led up to an ornately painted boulder flanked on both sides by grim, dark blue banners. Before the boulder stood a man in dark leathers. The leader. Prominent features, a pretty big nose, with hair and beard as blonde as his own...

"So you would challenge the Blades of Hessarian?" the leader demanded, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Hmm," he grunted.

A bit of silence..."Well? Any more to add to that?"

"Hmm."

Bushy brows furrowed, pinching the bridge of the great nose. A rough hand caressed the slick handle of a hatchet, conveniently perched on the left hip. "No last words? Nothing?"

He met the Hessarian leader's scrutiny with a level gaze of his own. "Hmm."

"Well then..." The hatchet came free and spun in deft hands. "Your funeral!"

Faster than he could imagine, its edged blade swerved dangerously close to his chest, forcing him back in a last minute jump. On instinct, he reached for his sword and drew in the nick of time to block another incoming hack. The Hessarian leader had no other weapons or even a shield, but moved with confidence and deadly speed.

He parried the hatchet and thrust his blade for the leader's chest; the hatchet pulled a feint and chopped precariously close to his forearm. He drew back and swiped out with his left foot while also swinging his sword in the opposite turn, coming close to the Hessarian's torso. It took the leader by surprise for a moment, but he recovered balance quickly and struck out with a forward arm. The swordsman parried it easily and blocked a punch coming on his open side.

Something felt wrong. Why only a hatchet? It seemed counterintuitive that someone with so much to lose would be sparsely armed; an overabundance of confidence maybe, either well-earned or woefully misplaced...or a trick up the sleeve.

The sword began to read the hatchet's patterns, putting the bearded Hessarian on the defensive. At that point, it was confirmed that something _was_ wrong. Where anyone would have been worried, the Hessarian leader was smug...smiling, even.

Two fingers pushed under through beard, into the mouth. With a mighty puff, a shrill whistle escaped the lips, ringing sharply into the air.

And then barks...

Dogs _._

The swordsman turned around, alerted by heavy footfalls running up from behind him. He turned back again as the Hessarian leader pulled away and laughed.

"Have fun with my Mabari war hounds! I must warn you, though; they play rather rough."

A great, barrel-chested canine, half the height of a full grown man, made the last few strides before jumping onto the back of its new victim. With a vicious snarl, it dove for his neck, hot slobbery breath spilling down his skin. He fell forward onto the planked path and hit his chin on the wood. Before the Mabari's teeth could connect with his skin, he spun around in an effort to dislodge it and beat the side of its head with his sword's pommel. The cursed thing was armored from head-to-back with custom cut leather armor, though; if anything, the act served to enrage rather than discourage it. And if he was not mistaken, its fellow colleague was quickly catching up to him.

"Grim!"

He blinked and looked away as a wave of heat washed over the Mabari on top of him. The startled hound yelped and leapt off of him instantly, freeing its weight from his shoulders. He coughed and shot up to see the second Mabari also lashed by the flames, grey fur singed and hissing as rain hit the blackened pelt.

The magic could only have come from an elf he knew well. "Now make him regret it!" she yelled, green face tattoos still distinct even through the rain. Behind her, Seeker Cassandra and Cremisius Aclassi were restraining the two Hessarian gate guards.

He clasped his sword's hilt tighter and sprang to his feet. With a quick eye, he spotted the Hessarian leader and bound for him, blade held out in offensive. The hatchet came up in response, quick but desperate. He gave it no chance to retaliate, slashing mercilessly to keep it from regaining composure. Its flustered wielder shrank back with every blow, until at last the little hatchet was tossed from his hands and the sword plunged through leather and guts.

* * *

"It is done. If you know what is good for you, tell your people to stand aside and surrender to the Inquisition," Cassandra snarled to the guard she was holding hostage. From outside the fort, Inquisition forces and Chargers alike began filing in. "You have much to answer for the murder of our men."

"Ah, no!" the Hessarian guard gasped. "You'll find no trouble with us–"

As if on cue, one of the other Hessarians inside the fort came up to Grim. "The Blades of Hessarian are at your service, for you have won the challenge. Albeit unfairly," she mumbled.

"Hey, I wouldn't complain if I were you," Iron Bull warned her. "Can't say you extended the same courtesy to us, so how's about we call it even?"

At this, she straightened up in defiance. "The Blades of Hessarian are true to our word; we may have used such tactics against people we suspected, but once we pledge our loyalty, we stand by it even if it's the last thing we do. If you want a reliable set of eyes on the Coast, here we are." The other Hessarians around her nodded in assent, even if they weren't entirely pleased by the turn of events either.

It took a moment for the implication to dawn upon the invading parties. "Maker's balls, Grim!" Cremisius cried. " _You're_ the Hessarian leader now!"

All eyes turned upon the victor. Grim merely sheathed his sword back into its scabbard. "Hmm," he grunted. With a nonchalant air, he walked over to Iron Bull and handed the Mercy's Crest to the Qunari. Then, in a brusque gesture, he waved in the general direction of the Inquisition.

"Not anymore," Iron Bull chuckled, "but that's just as good."

Cassandra thus eased her grip on the guard, although she still kept a wary eye out. As an Inquisition soldier went by, she ordered him to keep a tight watch on the Hessarians and to make sure they didn't get any funny ideas. Not that they would, outnumbered as they were.

"Are the dogs okay?" a young voice asked, concerned. "I heard yelping..."

Ahnnie came through the crowd and looked about the people within. Her hands clutched the pole of her glaive uncertainly, as if she was unsure whether she needed it or not. When she spotted the injured Mabari being tended to by their caretakers, she let out a gasp of horror.

"They'll be fine," the elven mage who dealt them the wounds promised with a friendly hand on her shoulder. "It's just light burns, I assure you." Though there was no doubting she wouldn't have hesitated to go further, had the hounds been more vicious.

From the other side of her, Sera snorted. "We get to the bottom of who's been messing with our people, and all you care about is _dogs_?"

Ahnnie frowned. "They're not just 'dogs' to me, Sera. And there's nothing wrong with caring about people and animals at the same time."

"Wonder what you'd say to that on the other end of their teeth?"

Cassandra cut through the both of them, unamused. "If you are finished arguing, there is work to be done," the Seeker put in. Her hawk eyes landed on Ahnnie. "Come with me. You especially cannot stay idle."

The girl sighed. "Of course..."

* * *

At this point, Ahnnie could understand why people drank to take the edge of their nerves.

First, the Chargers started the search for the missing soldiers up to a run-down shack harboring hostile Hessarians. Then after subduing said Hessarians, dead Inquisition soldiers were reported in the shack, the same soldiers who went to investigate the bandits. The subsequent "challenge" was the least of her worries, since she was thankfully not the one chosen to don the Mercy's Crest amulet. But maybe those around her could've eased up on the protectiveness, letting her be a little more useful than someone asking arbitrary questions of the remaining Hessarians alongside Cassandra. Maybe they could've just let her _leave the damn camp_ and follow the others on the previous search. Maybe it should just stop raining so much!

 _I can't wait until we leave this place._ She couldn't even bring herself to say its name. If only they hadn't found the Chargers...maybe it would've been different; if it was just her and her companions again, like before...

But that was stupid, because the Chargers helped them out a great deal. Without them, the Inquisition might not have been able to find the shack in the first place, since the Chargers had been watching the Hessarians' movements for far longer than they were. With an agitated sigh, she shook more rainwater off her dampened hood. _It's this rain,_ she tried to convince herself, but deep down she knew it was another thing entirely.

 _Can the Chargers be trusted?_

Perhaps it was stupid to worry about that after having accepted their service...but something in her didn't like the fact that they, or at least their commander, were acting as spies for this 'Ben-Hassrath'. She thought she could put those doubts aside when Cassandra laid out firm conditions to the Iron Bull. But when everyone left her behind at camp earlier in the day, her imagination ran wild and she pictured the Chargers ambushing the Inquisition camp after having dispatched of the companions. And then it would all have been her fault, for even suggesting that the Chargers could help them, for even thinking it could be a good idea–

 _Quit it!_ she chided her own mind. _I worry enough as it is. Why do I have to make this so hard for myself?_ She roughly wiped the raindrops off her face when the wind changed direction and blew them below her hood. _Curse this stupid–_

"Ahnnie, was it?" Cremisius then walked into her path, startling her. "You don't look so great."

"I just hate the rain," she responded, trying not to let her anxiety flare at the sight of him. He brought up mixed feelings, now; first camaraderie, then suspicion.

"I've just the thing for that," the young man winked. "Have a drink with us and get yourself acquainted with the rest of the company. You didn't get to yesterday."

A wry smile crossed her face. "Because the casks spilled out while you were bringing them to the camp," she reminded him.

"Told the chief we should've just emptied them on the beach! And not into the ground, either." He shook his head emphatically. "What a waste of good Tevinter vintage. Te _vint_ er – vintage – that's where the word comes from, did you know that?"

"Oh, no, I didn't..."

He chuckled. "That's the last time we open casks with axes. But these Hessarians've got some of their own, thank the Maker. C'mon, it'll be fun."

 _It_ has _been a while since my last drink..._ and she could always count on the Inquisition soldiers around her...still, she considered refusing, but when she looked into the charismatic face of the young Tevinter, she found herself giving him a timid shrug, followed by her best attempt at a smile; all to keep him from reading her trepidation. "Sure, I guess."

He led her into one of the wooden structures of the Hessarian fort, where a merry blaze was crackling in the middle and a group of people were drying themselves off around it. Two Inquisition soldiers were chatting away to the side, reassuring her somewhat with their presence. At the head of the group round the fire, though, was the Iron Bull, setting off alarm bells in her head all over again.

 _Should I watch what I say around him?_ Ahnnie wondered. Good god, she thought she'd put all that behind when she left Val Royeaux!

The Qunari looked up as she and Cremisius took their seats around the fire. "Ah, good," he boomed, "we're not drinking alone."

Ahnnie winced at the sound of his voice. In these close quarters, its volume echoed uncomfortably in her ears.

"'Course not, chief," Cremisius grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Iron Bull grinned back. "How you doin', _Krem de la Crème_?" he then asked, rather jokingly.

Cremisius' smile went flat in an instant. "I'm so glad he has someone new to hit with that joke," he said dryly to Ahnnie.

All at once, everyone's eyes suddenly seemed to focus on her. In response, she looked down and shrugged uncertainly. "Well, 'Krem' isn't so bad...I mean, it's a handy nickname...is that what he does? Gives you all nicknames?"

"I'm afraid so," Cremisius shook his head. "The chief loves his nicknames."

"Hey, when I was growing up, my name was just this series of numbers," Iron Bull pointed out. "We all give each other nicknames under the Qun."

"They ever wear shirts under the Qun, chief?" Cremisius shot back. "Or do they just run around binding their breasts like that?"

It took Ahnnie a moment before she realized he was talking about the shoulder strap going across Iron Bull's chest. When she did, she pursed her lips tight and lowered her eyes even further, fighting to stifle the oncoming laughter.

But the Iron Bull saw it anyway in the not-so-hidden shake of her shoulders. "It's a harness, Krem."

"Yes, for your pillowy man-bosoms!"

At that, Ahnnie chortled and clamped a hand to her mouth. Despite her effort to hide it, it was evident to those around the fire that she was having a good time at the chief's expense. At last she swallowed it down and looked up to give the Iron Bull a sheepish "Sorry". But by that point, the other Chargers along with Krem already had grins and smirks painted on their faces.

"Let me know if you need help binding. You could really chisel something out of that overstuffed look," Krem added, throwing in a mischievous wink for good measure.

His chief was unamused. "Humph," the Iron Bull snorted. With an imperious wave of his hand, he ordered them to "Stop giggling like little girls and get 'er a drink. Can't leave the Herald of Andraste thirsty, now can we?"

"Don't forget me!" Krem shouted after the designated person, the blonde-haired man who'd defeated the Hessarian leader, as he got up to get two cups.

When he returned, Ahnnie found herself nursing a smallish amount of a strong-smelling, amber-colored liquid. Confused, she furrowed her brows. "I don't mean to sound rude, but why'd you give me so little? And what is it?" she decided to add, sniffing at it curiously.

Chuckles echoed from all around the fire. "Just a little whisky," Iron Bull then said. "Why don't you give it a try?"

 _So Thedas has whisky here too?_ Interesting how the names of many things carried over from Earth; or vice versa. But she was not sure of what kind of alcoholic beverage whisky was. She only read of it in books, mainly novels. It smelled very sharp, though. Perhaps it was strong? Was that why she was poured such a small amount? Raising the wooden cup to her lips, she was soon to know...

As soon as the liquid touched her tongue, Ahnnie sprayed the whisky she didn't swallow all over the floor in front of her, exploding into a fit of wild coughs shortly after. Rather than acting concerned, the Chargers laughed, creating a raucous din within the walls of the little shack. When her coughs subsided, she shakily wiped the corners of her mouth, half-incredulous and half-incensed by the mercenaries' merriment. _But Jesus Christ_ _!_ She stared in horror at her cup through watery eyes. _It burns! Hell, it's like straight-up alcohol from the doctor's office!_ Her throat still tingled from the very sensation of it.

Krem gave her two hearty pats on the back, forcing out a new series of weak coughs. "Ah," he sighed, his laughter dying down, "that was priceless. First time downing liquor?"

"I thought–" Cough. "–I thought alcohol and liquor are the same?" Another cough.

"Liquor's distilled," the elven mage from earlier piped up, "but beer and wine are fermented. All are alcohol, just made in different ways."

That didn't really clear things up, but Ahnnie could take from it that liquor had more alcohol than ale. Whisky's fumy essence was much stronger, almost like fire. No wonder they gave her so little. She settled the cup down in her lap and cleared her throat, resolving to leave the drink alone for now.

Iron Bull chuckled again before thankfully changing the subject. "Anyway, here's the rest of the Chargers...or what's left of the rest. A lot of 'em went looking for stronger drinks."

 _There are drinks stronger than whisky?_ Ahnnie couldn't even imagine it.

Pointing at a hooded dwarf and dark-haired elf, the Iron Bull began his round of the group. "We've got Rocky and Skinner there." Then to the other side, where there sat a dark skinned man and the elven mage. "Over there, Stitches and Dalish." Followed by an elongated chuckle, before introducing the man who won them the Hessarians. "Last but not least, Grim." With a proud smile, the Qunari turned back to Ahnnie. "Crazy bunch of assholes, but they're mine."

Somehow, hearing him say that made her feel less guarded. Whether it was because he wasn't yelling for once, or because of the almost fatherly twinkle in his eye, or even as a result of that little swallow of whisky, Ahnnie found herself slowly relaxing. "That's nice," she said at last, though her voice was still a little hoarse. "It's a very diverse group. Not that that's bad," she hurriedly added, lest they took it the wrong way.

"Hey, with a Qunari as chief, what do you expect?" Krem aimed another playful look Iron Bull's way.

But indeed, besides Krem, Stitches and Grim were the only human Chargers sitting at the fire. Ahnnie believed she'd seen a good number of other elves and dwarves mixed into the mercenary company as well. Her interest was then piqued, as it offered her a chance to interact more with the other races of Thedas than she was usually given in the Inquisition; a large majority of its members (or at least, those who had the most contact with her), she realized, were human.

And if she needed more encouragement to do so, Krem nudged her with his elbow. "Go on," he urged. "Say hi. Ask 'em questions. They won't bite." The others chuckled or smirked in response, but their humor felt more palatable this time around.

"Um, Rocky, right?" Ahnnie then asked, turning to the hooded dwarf. It seemed most likely that that would be his name, or so she hoped. "Were you originally from the surface, or Orzammar? If you don't mind my asking?"

It turned out she was right, for he didn't correct her. "Orzammar," Rocky began. "I got exiled. Stupid noble crap. Also, I...accidentally blew up a bit of the Shaperate."

"Ah," she nodded, pretending to know what the Shaperate was. _I'll have to ask Varric later._

"Rocky's one of our best sappers," Iron Bull put in. "He can take down enemy fortifications faster than a golem."

"I'm also working on my own version of Qunari blackpowder," Rocky added, his voice emphatic. "I've _almost_ got it!"

The Iron Bull slowly shook his head. "Yeeaaah...you really don't."

The others snickered at that remark, the loudest one being the elven mage. That mage stood out foremost amongst the Chargers, by virtue of being the one who burned the Mabari hounds. Ahnnie turned her attention there next. "And you're Dalish? Well, I mean, nicknamed 'Dalish' and ethnically Dalish." If so, this was her first time seeing a Dalish elf, especially with face tattoos! She couldn't help wondering what deity they represented?

"That's me," Dalish nodded. Her voice seemed older than it should be, which coupled with an odd bouyancy lent it an almost snarky quality.

"Were you part of a clan?"

"I was – our keeper thought I should see the world a little."

"Dalish don't have templars, so they can't have too many mages in a clan at once," Iron Bull explained, to which Ahnnie nodded, glad to have the extra info.

"Now, _ser_ , you know I'm not a mage!" Dalish protested. The mischievous twinkle in her eye may or may not have been intentional. "That'd make me an apostate."

"You carry a staff, Dalish," Iron Bull reminded her.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation, as if they had had this argument one too many times. "It's a _bow._ "

Krem frowned. "A bow with a giant glowing crystal at the tip?"

"It's for aiming." Dalish shook her head at him. "Old elven trick. You wouldn't understand."

Ahnnie couldn't help but giggle at that. She was sure Solas would have plenty to say about this 'old elven trick' and 'bow', if he were present. What a pity he wasn't. She could already imagine him now, giving the eccentric Charger strange looks before saying something deep about magic – _I think Dalish would get along better with Sera. Although I'm not too sure Sera likes magic, craftily renamed or otherwise._

"Stitches is the company healer," Krem said, recapturing her attention with a gesture at the dark skinned man. "As you might've guessed from his _fabulously_ original nickname."

"Hey, at least they're to-the-point," Iron Bull argued.

Ignoring the exchange, Stitches boasted with a solemn sort of pride, "Yes, I am. First time I ever picked up a sword was when the Blight hit Ferelden; never put it back down."

"Of course," Ahnnie acknowledged, "knowing how to fight is a vital skill here...as I've come to realize."

"Then you'll be glad to hear he makes a potion that'll put you right back on your feet after even the toughest fight," said Iron Bull. Then he pulled a face. "It tastes terrible, though."

"That's because it's a _poultice,_ ser," Stitches corrected him. "You're not supposed to drink it. Speaking of poultices–" He turned to Ahnnie. "How's the cheek feeling?"

She instinctively touched the wounded side of her face, a third of which was covered by a sticky bandage. "Um, pretty good. I haven't even noticed it at all today. Your poultice?"

Stitches nodded. "The very same. Remember, don't drink it!"

The others laughed, and Ahnnie couldn't help laughing as well. "Thanks," she said. "I appreciate it."

"Definitely drink more whisky," the dark-haired elf chimed in, raising her own cup. "Drink enough, and 'poof'; you'll feel nothing." With a satisfied smirk, she brought the cup to her lips, gulping down the fiery liquid like it was nothing.

Ahnnie smiled politely at her. "I'll...take my time. Skinner, was it? Are you Dalish too?"

"No," Skinner shook her head. "City elf."

"Oh. How'd you join the Chargers, then?"

She put down her drink and looked into the girl's eyes with an expression of headstrong defiance. "Killed some people," she stated, almost as if daring Ahnnie to find offense with it.

Before the worst could be assumed, Iron Bull gave a clarified account of the story. "Skinner didn't take kindly to nobles testing their new swords on the elves in her alienage. We thought her talents could be put to better use and took her in–"

"Now I get paid to kill shems." Skinner's grin was almost maniacal, and Ahnnie had a feeling that, Herald or no Herald status, the bellicose city elf wouldn't hesitate to target her if the Iron Bull so ordered it.

 _I think I know why her nickname is 'Skinner',_ Ahnnie then thought, shrinking back in her seat a little.

"This is actually really good behavior for her," the Qunari remarked with a roguish smile. "She's not marking her territory or anything."

Skinner chuckled darkly before sipping at her drink again, and Ahnnie averted her eyes elsewhere. They came to rest on Grim, the stoic man who seemed to fear nothing. Surely he didn't, if he volunteered to enter an enemy fort to challenge its leader. Of course, he must've known there were reinforcements to back him up, but that was besides the point. Anything could have happened in that space of time, especially if they never heard the barking of dogs in the first place. She then felt incredibly rude for having ignored him until now; he was just so quiet! "So, uh, Grim? What about you?"

His stony eyes, perpetually drawn into a frown, it seemed, looked away from the fire and up at her. "Hmm," he grunted.

Ahnnie tilted her head in confusion. "Um...excuse me?"

"Hmm."

"Grim doesn't talk much," Iron Bull explained, with a hint of apology. "I'm pretty sure he's the lost king of some small country. Or a chieftain. Something like that."

Grim gave a noncommittal shrug. "Hmm."

 _That's...interesting._ Ahnnie raised the cup to her mouth, before remembering the vile drink inside. She remembered a little too late and gagged a bit on the liquid fire. After a clearance of her throat, she turned to the Iron Bull with as natural a smile as she could muster. "Well, ser..."

"Just call me Bull," he insisted.

"Bull...you've got a nice group about you." She coughed and looked round at the motley crew before her, ending at Krem. "They're, uh...well, they're different," she confessed, "and I honestly wasn't expecting this at first, but..." She shrugged. "They're cool. I mean, great. And they really like you, too. I can see why you care about them so much." _Except maybe for Skinner. She gives me the creeps._

A chorus of "d'awws" arose from the Chargers. "Hush, you're making me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside," Krem joked, nudging her with an elbow again.

As for the Iron Bull, the look on his face was as close to bashful as Ahnnie believed the Qunari could get. He gave a throaty chuckle and shook his head. "Ah, we do all right," he demurred, though there was more than a little pride to be heard in his tone.

From the other side of the fire, a booted foot beat out a steady tempo on the dirt floor. " _Noooo man can beat the Chargers,_ " Rocky slowly began, and the others took up the next line along with him, speeding the notes along until the tune became lively.

 _"_ _'Cause we'll hit you where it hurts._

 _Unless you know a tavern_

 _With loose cards and looser skirts!"_

"C'mon, sing it with us," Krem urged with yet another nudge.

Ahnnie blushed. "No thanks, I'm not a...good singer...I'll just listen for now." From the slightly reddened complexion on his cheeks, she could tell the whisky had already begun its influence on the young Tevinter.

"Bah! You're no fun!" Krem turned away from her and went back to joining the chorus, now grown more raucous in the second verse.

 _"For every bloody battlefield,_

 _We'll gladly raise a cup–_

 _No matter what tomorrow holds,_

 _Our horns be pointing up!_ "

They ended with a splash of laughter and cheering. The shack suddenly became wild with their hoots and shouts, and it felt as though she were in the Singing Maiden again rather than a little wooden structure out on the Storm Coast. Ahnnie smiled along to the revelry, although she declined a refill of her not-so-depleted whisky. "Still working on it," she assured Grim, who gave her a grunt of acknowledgement. Out of politeness, she chanced a tiny sip, grimacing slightly upon feeling its burn.

"Don't push yourself if you don't like it," the Iron Bull said, startling her. She had not been aware that he was watching.

"O-oh, it's fine," she stammered, "I just have to get used to it..."

He shook his head. "Nah, we'll give it another time." Reaching over with his great hand, he tipped the contents of her cup into his own. "There. Now you can impress them with your amazing drinking skills."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "Naw, they'll know; I only took two sips. Maybe a sip and a half?"

"And all the whisky's gone – would you look at that?"

She gave an amused shake of her head. "Oh, no. I got drunk after one mug of ale. If I really finished all that whisky, I might've passed out much sooner."

"Well. Everyone takes it differently." Iron Bull took a swig from his cup. "All jokes aside, don't hesitate to speak up if you're not comfortable about doing something. Y'know, live a little more for yourself. All right?"

Ahnnie nodded thoughtfully. "I will...thanks."

He smiled at her. "Don't mention it."

Just then, an Inquisition soldier ducked her head through the doorway, looking left and right until she caught sight of Ahnnie. "Ah, Lady Herald! You're required back at the camp. We'll be leaving for Redcliffe first thing in the morning, and you've got to prepare. Seeker Cassandra's orders."

"Oh!" Ahnnie got up to her feet, depositing her empty cup with Krem. "I'm coming–"

"Aw, so soon?" Krem protested, though he made no move to return her cup.

"Fun's just getting started!" Dalish added.

Iron Bull heaved himself off his bench and waved dismissively at the Chargers. "We're gonna have to do the same anyway, so don't complain." Turning to Ahnnie, he gave her a hearty pat on the back, albeit much gentler than last time. "Thanks for coming by, boss. Glad you could meet some of my team."

"B-boss?" she stuttered. "No, I'm not–"

"Well, you're part of the Inquisition," he countered, "and who d'you think just hired us?"

She blushed. "Right...well, I'll see you later." With a look back at the rowdy Chargers, she gave them a parting wave. "Bye, guys. Have fun."

They didn't seem to hear her, though, or they did and the resulting yell was a mis-matched chorus of 'byes'; she didn't hear it too clearly as she followed the Inquisition soldier out of the shack. But as she strode through the Hessarian camp, she felt much easier than before about the presence of the Bull's Chargers. _They're not so bad after all...I guess it's nothing to worry about, as long as they follow Cassandra's guidelines._

And God knows, she was already looking forward to their next drinking session.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys! Happy Asian New Year! Sorry for taking a while. Hope you enjoy.

Irrelevant, but...anyone notice how the bald man in Split looks a bit like Solas? No? Just me? Mmkay...


	24. Chapter 22

The Hinterlands welcomed the Inquisition once again after almost two weeks of drudging winter travel. The icy downpour of the Storm Coast evolved into chilling sleet and eventually, droves of snowflakes, but all that seemed much more bearable to the Herald than rain.

She left the accursed coast feeling a newfound sense of camaraderie with the Chargers, alongside a hint of mourning for the Inquisition soldiers they had lost; on the eve of the journey, funeral pyres burned through the night as a last service to the Hessarians' victims. The rain was luckily not too much of a problem, but the smoke and crackling of the fire haunted her even after the five to six hours it took to finish, and that was not mentioning the smell.

"Why don't we send them home to their families for proper funerals?" she had asked of Harding right before the pyres were to be lit; stacks of dried wood from both Inquisition and Hessarian stores were being sent in as they spoke. "Why burn them here?"

"That's a service we unfortunately can't perform right now," the dwarf had answered remorsefully. "A pyre here is more efficient, gets the bodies off our hands immediately without leaving them to rot on our old campsite. Not to mention their families aren't all from Haven, and we can't spare the men to travel all that way with just corpses. I don't think you'd fancy traveling alongside dead people on the way to Redcliffe either, would you, Lady Herald?"

Ahnnie's face blanched. "I guess not."

An awkward silence settled between them, which Harding sought to alleviate by giving her a sympathetic smile. "It's not always easy, choosing efficiency over ideals. But in this kind of situation, you just gotta do what works. Eventually you just get used to it." After some thought, she added, "We do our best to remember who they are, though, and inform their families afterward."

"It's the thought that counts, I suppose."

Ahnnie couldn't remember what else had been exchanged between her and the dwarf scout, but the burning happened shortly after and she only remembered trying her best to ignore it.

* * *

There was plenty to keep her occupied on the road to Redcliffe, though. While some Chargers were dispatched to keep a position on the Storm Coast, the group she drank with plus some others were able to come along, including of course their famous commander.

And his mount of choice? A nuggalope.

A thick, grey beast that looked like a mix between a trunkless elephant and rhinoceros, the nuggalope sported massive curled horns on either side of its head and what appeared to be balled-up hands for front feet. By horse standards, it must at least have been eighteen hands high and was just the perfect thickness to take on the Iron Bull's bulk. As an amusing afterthought, its leathery hide was also the same hue of grey as its rider.

"Want to know what the chief calls it?" Krem asked her after she'd been gawking at the creature for some time.

She snapped out of her reverie to look at him. "What?"

"Oh, you'd never guess: 'Nuggy'." The Tevinter rolled his eyes. " _Very_ original."

"I heard that!" Iron Bull barked in retaliation, making them both laugh.

It certainly drew a lot of attention from the other Inquisition members who had never seen an nuggalope before. Then again, they probably never thought they would see a Qunari sitting astride one. Sera certainly had a lot of fun blowing raspberries and making comments at "the overstuffed pig with horns" as they went along the road, especially after it was given a blanket covering and special boots to protect from the cold.

"Are nuggalopes what Qunari use to ride, kind of like how humans, dwarves, and elves use horses and ponies?" Ahnnie ventured to ask one day.

Iron Bull chuckled. "If you're gonna make another pig joke–"

"Don't worry, that's just Sera," Ahnnie reassured him, smiling.

"Well, the answer's yes and no," he then replied. "We can use draft horses just fine. I could've done that, but I found this nuggalope for a good bargain at a bazaar. So whatever carries us best, I guess. We're generally not a calvary intensive race, though. Don't know if you've heard the stories, but we do a lot of invasion by sea; Dreadnought warships ring any bells? Oh, and gaatlok, the famous Qunari blackpowder Rocky always fails to make." He rolled his eyes and shook his head mischievously.

"I've only heard that the Qunari come from Seheron and Par Vollen," Ahnnie recalled. "And I think I read about some invasions in a few books at Haven's Chantry." She tilted her head curiously. "Any chance you could tell me more about the Qunari yourself?"

"Why, you writing a book?" he asked, thick with sarcasm.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Well, maybe one day! Who knows? But I thought I could hear it from an actual Qunari. Someone with firsthand experience."

He gave an amused snort. "All right. What do you want to know?"

Ahnnie pursed her lips in thought. "How about leadership? How do the Qunari govern themselves?"

Iron Bull settled back into his saddle, preparing to lose himself to the faraway reaches of the Qunari homelands. "It's pretty simple," he began. "We've got the matriarchy, the priesthood, and the military. The priesthood figures out how Qunari should live, in theory. The matriarchy makes it work in practice, and the military keeps the Qunari safe from outside threats."

"That's interesting," Ahnnie remarked. "Is there a lot of infighting, though?"

"Not like you're thinking of," he corrected her. "People disagree, yeah, but the priests are there to solve disagreements. For example, in Orlais, politicking comes from people putting their own gain ahead of the gains of society. If you do that among the Qunari, the Ben-Hassrath set you straight. Or kill you."

 _Yikes._ "So Qunari society is like a socialist society? That is, a society focused more on the good of the whole than the individual."

"You could say that," Iron Bull nodded, "and it goes even farther. Under the Qun, there is no private property or currency. I say I bought this nuggalope at a bazaar, but under the Qun, I would not have obtained it that way, and even then I might not have it at all if it seems I don't need it. The closest thing we've got to merchants are suppliers who make sure the goods are distributed properly. We'll actively work at improving production through research and borrowing from other cultures, but the demands of individuals are quite limited."

That definitely sounded like socialism, and then some. "If that's the case..." Ahnnie looked confusedly up at him. "Do the Qunari have marriages? Since romance between two people would seem like an individual thing...or a union for financial purposes," she added upon remembering that love wasn't always the basis of marriages in Thedas.

The Iron Bull laughed. "Yeah, that's true. Qunari have no financial needs, and we love our friends like anyone else, but we don't have sex with them."

Ahnnie's cheeks turned a bright red. "Well, um, humans don't _do that_ with just 'friends', either. I-it's more like a _different_ sort of relationship, more, uh, close and–"

"You'd have to understand; to the Qunari, that's what it seems like." His face was smug, as if he enjoyed watching her squirm.

"S-so," she stuttered, "I guess that means the Qunari...procreate differently?"

"Oh, definitely. There are Tamassrans who pop your cork whenever you need it."

"Tamas...?"

"They're a part of the priesthood who control the selective breeding, raise all the children, and assign them their future roles. And of course..."

"Erm, yeah," Ahnnie coughed. "I believe you just mentioned that." Her cheeks, in the meantime, were growing warmer; her mind, spinning. _S_ _elective breeding? And children raised by the people who select the breeding? So there's not even the concept of family in Qunari culture? That's very...mechanic._ What a different sort of culture these horned giants lived in.

"It's not a big deal like it is here," Iron Bull put in. "It's like...I don't know, going to see a healer? Sometimes it's this long involved thing..."

She fought the urge to facepalm. _Oh my god, is he still talking about 'that'? I hope no one else is listening..._

"...takes all day, leaves you walking funny...Other times, you're in and out in five minutes. 'Thank you, see you next week!'" he pretended to call out with a suggestive click, soft enough to keep within bounds of their conversation but loud enough to make her look around frantically for any eavesdroppers.

It took Ahnnie quite some time before she was composed enough to speak again. "That's very...um, different," she eventually ground out.

"Yep." He was clearly enjoying her reaction to the topic. "Still, it's more fun here. Fewer rituals, more...making it up as you go along. Plus, you folk have redheads." He gave a low, throaty chuckle. "Ah, redheads..."

"Eh heh, yeah..." Another silence befell them as, again, Ahnnie couldn't seem to find the right words to respond with. _Just what can I say to 'redheads', of all things!?_ It was an interesting conversation, though, and she had so many more questions about the Qunari. One way or another, she was going to have them answered. She just had to let the awkwardness subside first. When she found it sufficiently so: "You talk a lot about this thing called 'the Qun'...what is it, exactly?"

All the pleasure seemed to drain away from the Iron Bull's face as he heaved a misty sigh and looked at her with a sort of fatigue. "You sure you're not writing a book? 'Cause your questions sound an awful lot like you are..."

She shrugged. "Like I said, maybe one day. Right now, I'm just curious."

He shook his head. "Hoo boy. That's one hell of a curiosity you've got there." He then flexed his shoulders, as if the task of explaining the Qun would entail physical exertion on his part. And maybe, in a way, it would. "Well first thing you'll probably hear about the Qun is that it's a religion, but..."

* * *

"Hey, big guy."

Iron Bull looked up, then about.

"Yeah, you...who else would I be talking to?"

And then he looked down. "Ah, you're that dwarf," he remarked upon finding the person who had addressed him. "What's your name...Varric?"

"The very same," Varric nodded. "You know, I met the Arishok."

The Iron Bull raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh, the old one? Man, he had an impressive rack. The new Arishok doesn't have horns at all. Usually means they're destined for something special."

"I met him too," Varric affirmed. "The only thing they seem to have in common is a tendency to burn things."

"That pretty much sums up the antaam, yes."

Varric watched him tend to his nuggalope awhile, observing how he pat down the creature to remove snow from its blanket's crevices. "So, you're Ben-Hassrath, eh? The spies of the Qunari."

"Oh, you've heard of us?" There was a slight hint of sarcasm, for if someone claimed to have met the Arishok, then surely they must know what the Ben-Hassrath were.

"I spent some time in Kirkwall," the dwarf explained. "You're not the first Ben-Hassrath I've run across. Hawke and I were on a caper with one named Tallis."

"You don't say."

"She caused us no end of trouble. You wouldn't know her, by any chance?"

"Hey, one time I ran across this dwarf on the road. Short, grouchy. You think you may know him?" He turned towards Varric, barely concealing any of the joke on his face.

Varric grinned back. "I'm on the Merchant's Guild. Ten royals says not only I know him – he owes me money."

"Oh. Well...no. I don't know Tallis. Sorry."

Varric chuckled. "Nah, I was just curious. But lookit you, Mr. Big, Burly, and Loud...how could you possibly be a spy?"

Iron Bull gave the shorter man an amused glance from the corner of his eye. "Well, it's a pretty easy job," he began. "I do some fighting and drinking, and then once in a while I tell Par Vollen about it."

The dwarf laid out his palms in a questioning gesture. "Where's the sneaking, plotting, the subtle machinations?"

"If you do that, everyone knows you're a spy," the qunari rebutted. "Drinking, fighting, writing notes; that's all it really takes."

Varric shook his head and chuckled. "Shit. You're really the worst qunari ever, or the best. I can't decide."

Iron Bull kept his grin concealed as he turned his back to the dwarf to give the nuggalope one last emphatic pat on the withers. "Got any more questions under your belt?" he then called out. "I can take 'em. In fact I've been answering so many questions lately, my jaw's practically oiled loose. From gender roles to recipes and architecture...you name it, I got it!"

Varric turned in amusement at the road ahead of them, where Cassandra, Ahnnie, and the others had gone ahead while he, the Chargers, and some Inquisition members made up a rear guard. "Oh, you've seen nothing. I heard from Solas – you know, the bald elf mage? The one with the funny looking staff? – that the day after she recovered, she–" The dwarf narrowed his eyes, squinting at an incoming object rushing down the path, accompanied by urgent hoofbeats. "Well, if it isn't the Inquisitor herself. Get it? _'Inquisitor_ '? Because questions?"

"Yeah, I get you," Iron Bull nodded, although his attention was now fully arrested upon the galloping Forder coming their way.

"What's the rush, kiddo?" Varric hollered at Ahnnie as she came within shouting distance.

The girl quickly checked her horse and barely fought to keep it still as it pranced about, still exhilarated by the rush of their ride. Her face, they noted, was pale. "We got to Redcliffe," she spluttered, "and there's a rift – I know, I should be there, but – Cassandra shouted for someone to get back here, to tell you, and no one seemed like they could, and–"

"Whoa, slow down," Iron Bull coaxed her, coming closer to her antsy mount with a comforting hand on its snout. With his free hand, he gestured at the Chargers. "Mount up, boys; we're going in. You can explain on the way," he nodded at her.

"I'm going back right now," Ahnnie shouted as she backed up her horse and turned it back around. "But here's the thing about this rift. It's...different. You'll see when you get there!" With a slap to the Forder's buttock, she was off again, racing down the path as though the very rift demons were on her tail.

"Shit," Varric cursed as he quickly jumped on his pony. "Wonder what she means by 'different'."

* * *

Ahnnie reined in her horse at the safest yet closest possible distance to Redcliffe's main gate. Before its stone walls pulsed an angry, electric green rift, crowned atop a miasma of confused fighting. Without a second thought, she jumped off her horse and half-stumbled half-ran to a flustered Cassandra. When she came within speaking distance, the woman grabbed her arm and spun her about like a naughty child.

"Where were you?" came the sharp reproach.

She could only point behind her in response at the galloping forms of the rest of their party raising dust on the road.

"What's this, Seeker?" Varric asked after he swung off his pony, one of the first to arrive. "You don't look so happy."

"Of course I don't, Varric," she spat. "This _thing_ explodes in our faces the moment we get close, and as if demons weren't the least of our concerns, it baffles us with its strange...magic!"

One look at the scattered corpses and horseflesh testified to the first part of her account. But before anyone could say anything, Solas suddenly appeared at their side as if conjured from thin air.

He blinked a moment and then looked at the incoming Chargers behind Ahnnie. "Well, at least it was forward this time," he muttered casually, though his face was streaked with dirt and some blood.

"All right, what's all this hocus pocus about?" Varric demanded, no longer joking. "Whaddyou mean by 'forward this time'?"

Solas pointed towards the disjointed battlefield, where men were fighting demons and strangely colored circles lit the ground beneath their feet. "There are temporal distortions appearing on the ground that either take you back a few seconds in time, or a few seconds forward." Almost at once, the people within the circles blinked out of existence. Some came back a few seconds later, others took a longer time and repeated their former actions before blinking away again.

Varric's brows furrowed deeper. "Oh, _shit_! Time magic?"

"You now see what we're up against," Cassandra hissed. "At this rate, it will take forever to get rid of the demons. And to get close enough to the rift..."

Ahnnie withdrew her glaive and gripped it tight. "Maybe if I just dodge the circles..."

"Too risky. You see how haphazardly they appear." The Seeker's eyes narrowed. "Maker strike me if this isn't a trap from the mages."

"And how would any of the mages here be capable of something like this?" Solas shot back. "The Veil is weaker here than in Haven, and not merely weak, but altered in a way I have not seen. The rebel mages here are simply not _advanced_ enough, not even I–"

"The coincidence, Solas – the very timing of it–"

"That's all well and grand, but it's a _completely_ different–"

"Guys!" Ahnnie gripped onto Solas' forearm while looking up pleadingly at Cassandra. "Can't we think of this later? There's...there's gotta be a way to stop it, first..."

The Chargers thundered up the hill as they spoke, reining in close behind the other's mounts. Iron Bull was about to lead a rush into the frenzy before Cassandra stopped and briefed him on the situation. And perhaps she felt like being nice, for she crossed her arms and asked him what he thought could be made of the situation.

"Well, here's the thing," Krem began with a critical eye on the battlefield. "Maybe you've got too many out there. Too many at once, just falling into these 'distortions'. Get some people out, maybe draw the demons away. See if that doesn't lay it all bare for you."

Solas looked over at Cassandra. "It may take some time to fully reach all the men, but a continuous call to fall back should do the trick."

"And if these circles follow the demons?" the Seeker countered.

"We've seen no evidence of that so far. It's worth a try."

Iron Bull chuckled as he ruffled the strip of hair along Krem's head. "That's a Bull's Charger for you! Brilliant, I tell ya. That all you want us to do, Boss? Draw 'em back and bash their brains out?"

Solas looked slightly amused at being called 'boss'. "Where's your mage? I will need her, as well as the Herald."

"For the last time, I'm an _archer_ ," Dalish snapped from somewhere behind the chief.

Solas turned in her voice's direction with a knowing smile. "Ah, there she is," he remarked. "Cassandra, call the signal to retreat; once everyone's far back enough, Dalish and I will take the Herald closer to the rift."

The Seeker nodded and turned aside to bark for the much desired signal. A horn blew out a singular tune across the air, quickly followed by another and another. The effect was instantaneous, as Ahnnie supposed it should be in a field of battle; the men fighting began to lead a retreat, burdened though it was by the demons following them. As promised, Cassandra kept the signal elongated so that all the soldiers had a chance to hear it. Blackwall and Sera were among the most notable figures drawing back from the rift, the discomfited elven archer sticking close to the Warden as she eyed the ground suspiciously.

"About time! Demons and magic can just piss off!" Sera was hissing. "Good thing I've got you in front of me, eh, Blackbeard?"

"Oh, of course," Blackwall sighed, exasperated. "Regular meat shield, I am."

And then the tune fluctuated by a note, upon which the successfully retreated fighters turned their backs around and steadily drew back with their weapons defensive; a feat reminiscent of bull baiters. Solas took Ahnnie in the meantime to an inconspicuous place behind a boulder, where they could watch the events more or less in safety.

"So, what's the plan?" Dalish's voice piped up from behind her, and the girl whirled around to find the tattooed elf coming up to them with a hand on a hip.

"We'll give them a chance to clear out first and observe how the circles move," Solas replied. "Then we will move in."

Ahnnie looked up at him. "What if demons spawn while we're in there?"

"Well then, we'll just have to get rid of them," Dalish said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"We will be with you," Solas assured her, "and if we can discern the slightest trace of a pattern in these distortions, we may be able to avoid them. We could even use them to our advantage."

"I know, I wasn't worried about safety," Ahnnie nodded. "Nothing's ever happened to me when I'm with you."

Dalish gave the both of them an inquisitive look, which Ahnnie didn't notice. The corner of Solas' lip twitched lightly, but only for a brief second before he was all business again, watching the yellow and green circles on the ground intently. Only a few men lagged behind, having stepped inadvertently into one of the circles in their retreat.

Once they were all gone, Dalish nodded at Solas. "Think now's the time?"

Solas looked left, then right, and nodded back. "The circles appear to be limited within a radius of three hundred feet of the rift," he remarked as he led them around the boulder. "So far, no pattern yet – but be ready to warn each other if you see one close by."

"An eye on the ground, an eye on the sky?" Dalish inquired, jerking a thumb at the crackling rift.

"That would be helpful, yes."

They were now within said bounds of the rift. "I'll watch out for circles," Ahnnie volunteered, but as soon as she said that, Dalish let out a yelp of surprise.

"Yellow circle!" the elf cried, pointing at the ground by Ahnnie's feet.

"Wha–"

A sudden blink, and then a push, as if someone shoved her backwards, and Ahnnie was suddenly propelled back to her former spot not less than a few seconds ago.

"An eye on the ground, an eye on the sky?" Dalish was asking again, with the same thumb jerking motion.

"That would be helpful, yes," Solas nodded, again.

Ahnnie did not have the time to wonder about the strange experience when she suddenly held them both back. "Yellow circle!" she cried out, having learned her lesson; as if on cue, a circle of yellowish light ringed the ground right where they had intended to step. It only held for a few seconds before it was gone. "Sorry," she apologized. "I just fell into that thing earlier...so, uh, I'll watch out for circles," she volunteered yet again, not entirely sure either of the mages ever remembered her saying it.

"Of course," Solas agreed. "Now, quickly!"

They dashed forward, darting here and there between circles as best as they could. "Green!" Ahnnie cried as one formed beneath Dalish's feet. The elf blinked away regardless, popping up beside them both after they had run forward a few paces.

"Yellow takes you back, green takes you forward," Ahnnie then realized.

"Perhaps the green ones aren't so bad," Dalish remarked. "It left me right where I wanted to be."

"True, I have noticed that," Solas agreed.

"Then we should take the green ones to get to the rift faster?" Ahnnie asked.

Solas frowned. "Well, I wouldn't–"

But she cut him off when she spotted a green circle and voluntarily hopped into it. This time, it felt as though she were being shoved forwards, and she blinked back into reality to find that she was several feet closer to her destination. A sense of exhilaration welled up within her as she realized the new usefulness of the strange temporal distortions; that was of course, until she heard the shriek of a terror demon spawning from the ground directly ahead of her.

"I was going to say, that I wouldn't be so hasty," Solas called to her as he and Dalish pulled up beside her.

"Right," Ahnnie nodded, holding her glaive out defensively. "Sorry."

Solas raised his staff in the air and chanted under his breath; shortly afterwards, a palish green circle ringed the area around them. "Let us hope this barrier will suffice in keeping the circles from us," he said. "Dalish, you and I will attack the demon; Ahnnie, stay between us and try to see if you can connect to the rift. And absolutely _no one_ move from this spot."

"Certainly better than running all over the place," Dalish nodded, and she and Solas started shooting elemental bolts at the lanky terror demon. Solas first to freeze its feet in place, then Dalish with harsh fireballs to strike its torso and head. Ahnnie turned away from them to raise her left hand towards the rift, although she kept the other trained on the glaive, just in case.

The mark in her hand vibrated with more and more intensity, but any light it gave out suffused and spluttered like a dying car engine. She shook her head and looked back at Solas. "I need to get closer!"

Solas dispersed the barrier around them and the trio stalked carefully towards the rift. The terror demon howled and yanked a foot free of Solas' ice, before diving into the ground and disappearing from view. Ahnnie watched for circles as well as for the demon, knowing how spontaneously it could reappear at any moment.

It burst out of the ground roughly a yard away from an incoming yellow circle, directly below Dalish. With a piercing shriek, it sliced into the elven mage's body like a knife through hot butter.

" _No_!" Ahnnie shouted, watching Dalish's body tumble down lifelessly. Zeroing in on the yellow circle on the ground, she jumped into it without a second thought–

–and was brought back to the precious few seconds before the terror demon did its dirty deed. "Dalish!" She grabbed the mage's arm and yanked her back fiercely, hoping to be just in time. The demon burst through as expected, but barely a foot away from them. Ahnnie's heart skipped a beat as she realized they narrowly missed being mutilated by only a hair.

Solas grabbed them both back and froze the demon's feet again. "Be careful!" he chided, but the bite in his tone failed to rattle her. Dalish was alive; that was all that mattered.

As they were moving out again, Dalish gave her a solemn look. "Thank you," she murmured to the girl, and it took Ahnnie a moment to realize the expression was one of respect.

"It was nothing," Ahnnie smiled back.

Solas stopped them at a point much closer to the rift than before, and like before, he created a barrier around them before shooting at the demon to keep it at bay. Dalish went to work beside him and Ahnnie turned to the rift, hoping it was close enough this time. _It's got to be,_ she thought. _It always worked at this distance._

As she expected, a beam shot out from her mark and connected to the rift. _Success!_ Now she only prayed that this rift didn't have stages.

"Down!" Dalish cried, and Ahnnie turned her head to find that the terror demon was successfully destroyed.

"Thank God!" the girl cried out, relieved.

Solas turned over to her, eyeing the rift critically. "How is it coming along?"

"Steady? I feel it weakening."

"Perhaps I can help you advance it."

That sounded like a good idea. The quicker it could be over with, the better. Before he could touch his hand to hers, though, he was suddenly hurled out of the barrier, lunged aside by a large brown shape.

"Solas!" Ahnnie cried out, watching in horror as the shade barreled him over. The force of the blow knocked the staff out of his hands, flinging it uselessly within confines of the barrier. A cry of pain escaped Solas' lips as the shade made a slash across his chest. With a powerful heave, he caught its wrist in one of his hands and sought to wrestle it away from his face.

Dalish found herself in a similar predicament as another shade spawned precariously close to their circle. "I'll get to him as soon as I can," she promised, but it wasn't reassurance enough. The more the seconds ticked by, the more danger Solas was in.

Ahnnie broke contact with the rift and lunged straight for Solas' shade. With a desperate cry, she sank the bladed end of her glaive into its leathery back, causing it to shriek in anger and whirl around to swipe at her with a claw. She ducked the blow and yanked her glaive free as it turned about, slicing into its face with the crescent blade before stabbing deep into its middle. Without even waiting for it to disintegrate, she grabbed Solas' hand and pulled him up.

"That was extremely foolish of you," he chided her again.

"It was completely worth it!" she shot back, hands and legs shaky from the sight of blood on his body. "Now are you going to help me, or not?"

They jumped back within the barrier and Ahnnie raised her left hand back towards the rift. As the beam flowed out from within her, Solas enclosed his hand around it and chanted out a spell. She felt a stream of mana course through her hand, feeding into the greedy mark, and the beam intensified. As the rift began to show the first sign of wearing away, Dalish finished her fight with the shade and held out her staff to prepare warding away more.

"Hurry, more demons are coming," she pointed out to them.

The rift hummed and morphed into itself, crackling like breaking glass. More mana poured into the mark and the beam tore away at the rift like a child shredding paper. Then with a final burst of light, the air thundered in their very ears and blew them all back in a haphazard tumble. The world spun like a crazy top as Ahnnie rolled away, slamming to a stop at a boulder. _Ow,_ she thought, too shocked to open her mouth for a groan.

From above the gate posts, a trembling voice rang out. "M-Maker have mercy! It's over! Open the gates!"

* * *

The creaking of the winches and pulleys as the portcullis was raised echoed above the heads of the near-exhausted group of people filing in under the gate. They split into several groups, one containing the Herald heading towards the heart of Redcliffe and others following suit with the horses and other supplies. As soon as the Herald's party made headway down the path, one of Leliana's green-hooded scouts apprehended them.

"We spread word the Inquisition was coming," the scout reported with a quick salute to the Herald, "but you should know that no one here was expecting us."

"No one?" Ahnnie echoed incredulously. "Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?"

The scout shrugged. "If she was, she hasn't told anyone."

"Well that's just _shite_!" Sera cursed, kicking at a stone. "We go through all this time crap and demon crap, and what does the friggin' Enchanter do but stand us up? _Knew_ we shouldn't have come here! Friggin' mages..."

"We've arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations," the scout continued, ignoring the irate elf. "You could–"

"Agents of the Inquisition! My apologies." Their attention was directed to a spindly elven man running up to them. "Magister Alexius is in charge now," he huffed as he jogged to a stop, "but hasn't yet arrived. He's expected shortly. You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime."

Ahnnie blinked, unable to process these sudden developments at once. "Did you say, 'Magister'?" she asked at last. "As in...from Tevinter?"

"Indeed," the elf nodded, a nervous smile wavering on his lips. "Just thought you should know."

"What else do you 'think we should know'?" Cassandra asked, stepping forward. A hand was already encircling the hilt of her sword.

The elven man backed away, widening eyes glued to the fingers on her weapon. "That's all I was sent to tell you. You'll find out in due time, I promise." Before the Seeker could reach him, he did a nervous jump-step backwards and rushed off as if pressed by an urgent errand.

Everyone watched him scurry away with both wary and weary eyes. Ahnnie refused to look at Cassandra's face, not wanting to look into the fury. "So..." she began, before they could lapse into an awkward silence, or something worse. "To the tavern?"

Cassandra dismissed the Inquisition scout and nodded in Ahnnie's direction as she walked forward. "To the tavern," she affirmed. "We should talk to the Grand Enchanter. And not so many of you," she added to the bulk of the Bull's Chargers, Blackwall, and Sera. "Keep your eyes about the village; be wary of anything strange. Solas, Varric, and I will suffice for this meeting."

The Chargers dispersed easily enough, not one for diplomatic negotiations anyways. Sera on the other hand scowled at this order, not keen to be stuck in a village known for harboring apostates, while Blackwall gave the Seeker a look of concern. "If you're certain...But I'll be close by. Give a shout, and I'll come running."

"Thank you, Warden Blackwall," Cassandra nodded.

Ahnnie turned to Solas as soon as the others were gone. "Are you okay with coming along? Do you want to rest somewhere?" she asked, eyeing the makeshift bandage peeping from the slash in his tunic worriedly.

"I will be fine, da'len," he assured her, smiling.

Redcliffe itself seemed like an amiable village. It was situated on a picturesque hillside overlooking a part of Lake Calenhad, pretty and charming even in the wintertime. The only thing that seemed to mar the air was the talk floating about them. Ahnnie supposed she should be used to this wherever she went by now, but it was still unnerving to hear of refugees and death and evil templars. The Gull and Lantern was several paces down the hill and near the docks, isolated and forlorn in a way that a tavern shouldn't be. It was near empty, too, save for three people standing in the middle of its dining area.

Grand Enchanter Fiona was a petite elven woman, with raven black hair and pale green eyes. She seemed so small that Ahnnie almost mistook her for a child. She stood flanked by two other mages, glaring uncertainly at the party of four as they walked into the dimly lit space. "Welcome, agents of the Inquisition," she greeted them. A slight Orlesian accent could be heard curling at the back of her tongue. "What has brought you to Redcliffe?"

"You invited us here," Cassandra put in frankly. "You sent a missive to Haven some time ago."

"You must be mistaken," Fiona corrected her. "I haven't written anything of the sort."

"Then who wrote this message?" The Seeker came up, reached into a pouch at her side, and withdrew a folded letter. "Is this not your handwriting?" So saying, she shoved it in the Enchanter's direction.

Fiona frowned at the parchment and reached to unfold it. Upon reading its contents, her frown turned confused, and she shook her head slowly. "I...I don't know. Now that you bring it up, I feel strange..."

" _How_ strange?" Varric ventured to ask.

She shook her head one last time and graced the quartet with a rather pitiable expression. "Whoever...or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already...pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium."

A shocked silence ran through their group. Varric could be heard letting out a whistle of breath, and Ahnnie tried to keep the surprise from showing on her face. _Was this all a trap, after all?_ a fearful little voice asked from within her. Solas only seemed slightly perturbed, though what he truly thought was as always a mystery. And of course, she could trust from experience that Cassandra would respond to this sort of thing with the one emotion she knew best.

"An alliance with _Tevinter_?" The last two syllables were proclaimed so sharply, they rang in everyone's ears. "Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?"

Varric shook his head. "Andraste's ass...I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could've done. And I've got nothing."

The Enchanter's face twisted further in agony, and the two mages beside her looked extremely uncomfortable. They clearly understood the implications of what they had done; and yet, they had done it anyway, which was what baffled Ahnnie.

"I understand that you are afraid," Solas murmured sympathetically, "but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter."

Fiona sighed. "As an indentured servant to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you."

"But the Breach!" The words slipped out of her mouth, but this time Ahnnie couldn't blame herself; she was truly horrified to hear that one of the Inquisition's last options was now falling beyond their grasp. "We need the help, and the longer we leave it, the more demons come through! Doesn't Tevinter care about that at all?"

The Enchanter turned to her, apparently noticing her for the first time. "I am not forgetting the Breach, but we can only fight one war at a time. The templar threat was immediate; if we live, we can worry about the torn Veil."

Ahnnie shook her head. "A rift opened up at the village's gate! _Anything_ could have happened if we didn't come today – by the time you worry about the Breach, it'll probably be–"

The tavern door suddenly slammed open, cutting her off. The quartet whirled around instinctively towards the noise, the source of which was a trio of men dressed in foreign clothes with equally foreign features.

"Welcome, my friends!" the head of the trio called out. He had a pleasant voice, and a very Ferelden-like sort of Common. "I apologize for not greeting you sooner."

Fiona gestured at the man, her discomfort replaced by a stiff politeness. "Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius."

Magister Alexius filed in until he faced the quartet, blocking Enchanter Fiona from their view. He had a thick, squared jaw and downward slanting hooded eyes. The only hair she seemed to see on him were his dark, bushy eyebrows and scant lines of stubble streaking his chin. "The southern mages are under my command," he stated, as if to remind them of a fact. Then his eyes flicked over to Ahnnie. "And you are the Survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting."

Ahnnie stared at him awhile, strangely amazed to behold a Tevinter magister in the flesh despite the severity of the situation. Perhaps it was the suddenness of his entrance; at any rate, her former fire dwindled as she remembered the diplomatic setting their meeting was supposed to be under. And somehow, pissing off Tevinter seemed as unappealing as siding with it. "Maybe we can negotiate something," she said at last, her voice subdued, "since you lead the mages now. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

The Magister smiled, ever-so-lightly. "It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable woman."

To be referred to as a 'woman' – and not a 'girl', for once – perhaps she shouldn't have let it take her aback, but it was _..._ different.

Very subtly, in the dim lighting, his smile appeared to widen by a tad. "Come." He gestured her over to an empty table for two, which she walked up to with more than a little trepidation. Much to her relief, Cassandra took up sentry behind her, dutiful as ever. The Magister didn't seem to mind; he called over one of his men, a young one dressed in yellow, shortly after settling down. "Felix, would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners," Alexius apologized. "My son Felix, friends."

Ahnnie smiled and nodded politely in Felix's direction. He returned the favor and gave both her and the Seeker a courtly bow before turning away from the table to start his search for a scribe.

"I'm not surprised you're here," the Magister went on. "Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages will be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed."

"It's not an ambition," Ahnnie felt the need to point out, "but a necessity. There's no telling what will happen if the Breach is not dealt with."

"But of course. Such magic is dangerous."

"Then you will lend us a hand, Magister?"

Alexius' face hardened. "There will have to be–" But he appeared startled by something from the corner of his eye and turned in its direction.

Curious, Ahnnie followed his gaze. What interrupted him was Felix, alone, coming up to them as if he had something important to say. _Wasn't he supposed to find a scribe?_ But he looked...queasy. Unwell. Magister Alexius abruptly pushed his chair back to step towards his son. Ahnnie rose from her seat as well, not certain of what was happening but alarmed by the young man's malady. Just as it seemed as though Felix were about to open his mouth, his head suddenly lolled and he tipped directly into her.

"Felix!" his father cried.

The girl reflexively caught him, slightly surprised by the bulk of his weight in her arms, before lowering him gently into a kneeling position. Once he reached the ground, he grabbed hold of one of her hands as if to steady himself and forced a paper into her palm. She opened her mouth to ask about it, but a strong pinch to her wrist warned her against it. She closed a fist around the paper in response. "I-is everything okay?" she asked instead, worried.

He gave a little shake of his head. "My lord, I'm so sorry," he apologized to his father. "Please forgive me."

The Magister was at his side in a heartbeat. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Father."

"Come, I'll get your powders." His voice, they could hear, was frantic. It was back to being forceful once he arose to address the others in the tavern, though. "Please excuse me, friends. I shall send word to the Inquisition; we will conclude the business at a later date. Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle." Without even looking at her, he strode for the door.

The former Grand Enchanter gave an obedient nod and slinked after him, followed by her two mages. Felix limped behind them, a hand clutching the side of his stomach.

 _I guess that's that, then?_ Ahnnie thought as she watched them leave, still confused by the whole episode.

Felix looked back at them one last time. "I don't mean to trouble everyone," he apologized weakly, before ducking out along with everyone else. The door was then pulled shut and the quartet enveloped in the hazy quietness of the empty tavern.

Once Ahnnie believed the mages were well and gone, she opened her fist and uncrumpled the little paper.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at it. "What is that?" she was quick to ask.

"That guy, Felix, gave it to me when he fell. He didn't want anyone else to know."

Solas and Varric then approached, curious. "What's it say?" the rogue dwarf asked her.

Ahnnie walked closer to a torch flickering in a sconce on the wall and studied the hastily scrawled runes carefully. " _Come to the Chantry. You are in danger_."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for taking so long again, guys. It's been a rather busy month for me. I haven't abandoned this story, though! If all else fails, expect a chapter a month.

Again, really, really sorry!


	25. Chapter 23

Redcliffe's Chantry seemed like any other Chantry in Thedas. Built of stone, graced with rounded triangular facades, engraved or emblazoned in some way with the Andrastian sunburst – it was becoming as titular to Ahnnie as the steeple-and-spire structures of Christian churches. She might as well have been coming to offer a prayer to Andraste than secretly meeting with whoever-it-was to discuss the 'danger' they – or she – were in.

"At least we know we're getting into some trouble," Varric pointed out, trying to find a silver lining. "Neither of you had any warning Lord Seeker Lucius was gonna..." But he dropped the matter after receiving a glare from Cassandra. "Well, you get my point."

"The Chantry sisters and brothers seem relaxed enough," Solas commented. "Then again, many of them were out in the village."

"So we can expect it to be more or less empty?" Ahnnie inferred.

"So you may _think_ ," Cassandra corrected her. "But of course, we must see what this is about. I heavily dislike all this secrecy and scheming."

So be it, but if memory served her well, Chantries weren't a hundred percent problem-free zones _._ Then again, she was the only one of their group to have been imprisoned in one. As she followed them up the steps, Ahnnie couldn't help wondering what awaited beyond those sunburst emblazoned doors. _This is a lot like Sera's note, just not as complex...what sort of danger could I be in this time?_

The door opened to reveal a hall so deceptively similar to the one in Haven she could've sworn she was there instead of Redcliffe. The only difference was a rift glowing in the middle of it, and a mustached man with a staff knocking the living daylights out of two demons.

Yes.

A rift. And demons. Inside a Chantry.

... _fuck._

Weapons were out faster than the eye could blink, but the man succeeded in beating the demons to oblivion before noticing the extra company. "Good!" he exclaimed. "You're finally here! Now help me close this, would you?"

His tone bordered on arrogant and he hadn't even the slightest sign of strain or fatigue; that, or he was good at hiding it. It was almost as though he had been expecting them by appointment and they just had the audacity to arrive late.

Three terror demons suddenly spawned before them, blocking the way to the rift. The strange man proved himself to be a mage, as he immediately used his staff to aim fire at the demon closest to him. Solas, Varric, and Cassandra knew what to do – this sort of thing had been honed into them by now, so familiar it was almost a regular exercise. With ice incapacitating the two other demons, Cassandra and Varric fell upon the one in the middle, while Solas worked on completely freezing the last one.

Ahnnie ducked between the iced legs of the frozen demons and ran for the rift. Just when she thought everything was under some semblance of control, though, the world suddenly blinked away and she felt a familiar shove backwards in time.

"Those circles!" she yelled in frustration, back beside her companions as they fought the demons. "They're here, too!"

"Oh, yes, those troublesome rings!" the strange man exclaimed. "Do watch your step."

The problem seemed to be more prevalent closer to the rift, which was frustrating. Not to mention Solas was waving his staff in such wide arcs, it was most definitely irritating the wound in his chest. _This shit has got to end, and fast!_ She could only take so much action and consternation in one day. Why did life never see it fit to just give her a break?

As if in defiance of this joke of fate, Ahnnie raced between the frozen terror demons' legs as before, but instead of watching her step, she jumped into the first green circle she saw. And then another, and another, in a continuous game of jump-into-the-green-circles until she was directly beneath the ever-rotating crystal of the rift. With a breathless look back at the others, she realized she'd just covered a distance of a couple hundred feet in at least half the time it took to run. Feeling optimistic, she hopped onto a fallen piece of stone, hoping its uneven shape made it safe from the time circles, and thrust her mark at the rift.

It exploded shortly after, sending a shower of neon green sparks all over the Chantry halls. She shielded her eyes in response and half-fell, half-jumped from her foot tall perch. The air, once charged with crackling energy, smoothed over, quieted, and calmed until it was the reverent atmosphere of a place of worship once again.

The man stared at the empty air where the rift had been floating not more than a few seconds ago. Then he gazed back at their group, registering each face as if noticing them for the first time, ending at Ahnnie as she returned. "Fascinating," he breathed a moment later. "How does that work, exactly?"

She paused. "Well...it..." She frowned, trying to think of an answer, and then shrugged in defeat.

"You don't even know, do you?" the mage asked. "You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes."

"It's not the fingers, it's in the palm."

Cassandra interrupted them before they could go any further. "Who are you?" she demanded, fed up with these shenanigans.

The strange man blinked. "Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see." To rectify his mistake, he gave them a suave bow and an equally suave introduction. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?"

The Seeker scowled. "Another Tevinter. Be careful with this one."

Dorian glanced at Cassandra with a raised brow, then back at Ahnnie. "Suspicious friends you have here," he remarked, almost thoughtfully.

If he seemed nervous, he did not show it. In which case, he was the best living example of "keeping one's cool" Ahnnie had ever seen. She restrapped the glaive onto her back and walked tentatively close to him on her way back to her companions. " _Should_ we be suspicious of you?" she asked back. "Just who are you, in the general scheme of things?"

The answer came smoothly, perhaps even readily. "Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable – as I'm sure you can imagine."

Ahnnie jolted to a stop beside Solas. She whirled around and wondered why such conspiracies from Ben-Hassrath spies to _this_ were happening to her in such alarming frequency. "And you would betray him because...?"

"Alexius _was_ my mentor," Dorian reminded her, offended. "Meaning he's not any longer, not for some time." Then his hardened look melted away. "Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you."

That certainly got their attention. "It was so sudden," Cassandra agreed, despite her suspicion of him. "We should have gotten word of it by Leliana's people the moment we entered the Hinterlands, or at least in rumors throughout the other villages. Instead, it was at the last minute; almost as if..."

"By magic, yes?" Dorian finished for her, and based on the expressions of the others about him, he knew he had hit the mark. "Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself."

Solas furrowed his brows in thought. "That is fascinating, if true...and almost certainly dangerous. It would account for the strangely altered state of the Veil in the area."

"The rift you closed here?" Dorian went on. "You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down."

"Hell, we went through one exactly like it just before entering the village," Varric supplied, to which Dorian's face grew grave.

"Soon there will be more like it," the Tevinter mage prophesied, "and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic that Alexius is using is unstable, and it's unraveling the world."

The prospect of a time-distorting danger in addition to the Breach was more than anyone in the room could bear. "You expect us to gamble on faith," Cassandra surmised unhappily.

"I know what I'm talking about," he retorted. "I helped _develop_ this magic! When I was an apprentice, it was pure theory – Alexius could never get it to work." He shook his head. "What I don't understand is...why? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"

"He didn't do it for them."

Ahnnie turned around to find Felix approaching them, no longer burdened by his earlier ailment. Either he had snuck through the door quietly or entered from another source, for they had not been aware of his presence until now.

"Took you long enough," Dorian greeted. "Is he getting suspicious?"

"No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day."

Cassandra crossed her arms. "Care to elaborate?"

"My father's joined a cult," Felix explained. "Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori'. And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you." His gaze bore into Ahnnie at the last word.

The Seeker cocked her head to one side. "Supposing the Magister went through all that trouble, rearranging time and indenturing the mage rebellion; it is solely to get to her?" She gestured with a hand back at the girl.

"They're obsessed with her," Felix replied, "but I don't know why. Perhaps because she survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?"

"She _can_ close the rifts," Dorian pointed out, "and she's allegedly from a different world. Maybe there's a connection? Or they see her as a threat?"

Felix's face twisted into an expression of disgust. "If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought."

Now that he mentioned it, Tevinter supremacists being responsible for the magic that destroyed the Conclave and brought forth the Breach seemed somewhat plausible. The country was known for its reverence of magic; its culture was conducive to research into any arcane branch that, in the hands of radicals, had the potential to spiral into catastrophe. Maker knows, they had been accused of such many times before. Then what Dorian said made a thought pop into her head: _What if the Breach was not only their fault, but they know Earth exists now? And not just because I keep talking about it..._

Varric eyed the youth pensively, perhaps even sympathetically. "You've got guts, kid," he commented after some thought. "It ain't easy working against family...'specially when you think they might be involved in blowing up a hole in the sky."

The dwarf seemed to have struck a chord within him. Felix pursed his lips and swallowed, eyes lowering to the floor. "I love my father, and I love my country, but this? Cults? Time magic? What he's doing now is madness. For his own sake, I...I had to say something."

Their exchange brought Ahnnie back from worlds in danger, and a little part of her went out to Felix after hearing the sadness in his tone. "What can I do, then?" she finally asked. There had to be _something._

"You know you are his target," Dorian told her. "Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage." He then turned aside, as if to leave. "I can't stay at Redcliffe; Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you are ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch."

"You agree to answer to the Inquisition, should anything implicate you," Cassandra stated as the mage began to move away, down the hall.

"Of course," he nodded. "And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."

The Magister's son watched him until he disappeared through an archway, the stones of which were faintly marred by the rift. "There are worse things than dying, Dorian," he murmured, and Ahnnie was close enough to have heard it.

* * *

It was good to be at the Crossroads again, a familiar place where they knew they had allies and could regroup and refresh themselves in safety. It was at the Crossroads that they would wait for Magister Alexius' invitation; Redcliffe's situation was not favorable to stability, and despite a generous offer to accommodate the Inquisition at its Castle, there were doubts as to the host's trustworthiness.

And he knew it, too. There couldn't have been any mistaking the true purpose behind their politely crafted rejection. But such was the game they were playing. The Inquisition could have gone and made the journey back up the Frostbacks to Haven; instead, they decided to camp themselves within a day's march of Redcliffe. Close enough to be on call, far enough to be out of reach.

As the saying goes, it takes two to tango. The Magister held all the right cards, from being the only other option left thanks to the red-crazed templars to holding the keys to any hope of negotiation – promising the Inquisition the desired meeting, whenever it so suited him.

It only remained to see what would happen next.

* * *

"Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand."

That was what Cassandra had said the morning after they arrived at the Crossroads, sheltered from the wind under a dark commander's tent.

"I thought we were going to negotiate with him?" Ahnnie asked, wondering what the Seeker had in mind – though perhaps she had suspected it already, the moment she heard the firm resolve in Cassandra's voice.

"Negotiation is but a pretense. He holds the upper hand, and knows it. What the Tevinter mage told us back at the Chantry has only served to reaffirm my suspicions; we cannot reasonably negotiate with the Magister without something disastrous happening. He and this 'Venatori' care naught for the closing of the Breach – they want you, for reasons we do not know, but it is certain that it is all for their personal agenda." She paused a moment to take a sip from her cup of spiced wine. "The Magister will keep us waiting, toying with our supposed desperation to stop the Breach."

"Isn't it a desperate situation, though?" Ahnnie asked again. "Why 'supposed'?"

"We want to stop the Breach, but we will not beg Tevinter for the help." The Seeker put down her wine cup. "We will have the rebel mages...and we will have them without foreign masters."

Blackwall raised an eyebrow. "You mean to take back Redcliffe Castle, then?"

Cassandra nodded. "Precisely." She came to a little table at the center and laid out a map of the castle that had been conveniently rolled beneath a paperweight. "We have reinforcements and loyal citizenry here to fall back on; and while we will not take it by storm, we can certainly rely on the agents Leliana has left at our disposal. One such agent gave me a copy of the castle's plans and pointed out a secret passage formerly used as an escape route–"

"Too narrow for troops, but a perfect fit for agents," Blackwall concluded, eyeing the indicated passage on the paper.

Ahnnie observed it as well, seeing the possibility within the plan. "Oh, um, stupid question," she piped up, "but...what happened to the arl of Redcliffe? I kind of just realized there's been no mention of him..."

"Oh, you probably didn't hear." Solas came through the tent flap and stopped beside her. "The Venatori evicted Arl Teagan and his forces from Redcliffe shortly after attaining the rebel mages' servitude. The arl himself is in Denerim petitioning for royal aid to recapture his home."

"News of which no one has heard of until now," Cassandra growled.

 _Ah, yes. That pesky time magic._ The surprise was just now beginning to ripple across the Hinterlands; she felt silly for not realizing it sooner. "Sorry. Please continue," she nodded to Cassandra.

"I apologize as well if I've arrived a little late," Solas added. "Now, from what I heard...you mean to sneak agents into the castle?"

"This passage is the only entrance that is not glaringly obvious," Cassandra nodded. "Of course, we will need a distraction."

"The meeting, then," Blackwall said. "When's it taking place?"

Solas gave them a wry smile. "It won't be for a while, no. Not if the Magister is worth his salt."

"But it _will_ come," Cassandra reminded them. "We must act the part of impatience before then. I will keep a correspondence with Leliana by raven to arrange everything as required. Regardless, the main plan will be to infiltrate and disable the castle's defenses while the Magister is occupied with Ahnnie."

Ahnnie frowned. "How do you know this will work? What if the Venatori..."

"It is a gamble," Cassandra admitted, "but one I am willing to take. I'm quite sure the Magister is not aware of what Dorian and Felix revealed to us, and a limited Tevinter presence in the Hinterlands suggests to me that they have not the force to spread farther. Those are the things that tip the balance in our favor for now. Then we can be rid of this farce and focus on what is important."

* * *

Just as the Seeker and hedge mage predicted, here they were, well into a waiting period that was starting to stretch beyond polite happenstance. Every now and then one of Leliana's scouts would send a report of what was happening in Redcliffe, but if they were anything to go by, then there was not much happening at all. The Magister's son was a little sick, which seemed to be the only thing of note, and Ahnnie worried that it was not a ruse this time around. She hoped he could get well soon, though it seemed as if he suffered from a chronic rather than acute disease from the way his father fussed over him.

Cassandra seemed the least disturbed by this elongated stalemate. She received ravens from Haven every two or three days, and was constantly busy as a result. God knows how many times she summoned Ahnnie, Blackwall, Solas, Iron Bull, and Varric to the command tent with a new variation to the plan or some important observation Leliana wanted to make (Sera...well, Sera was nowhere to be found when these things happened, and the Seeker seemed to prefer it that way). No news of any royal forces coming to take back Redcliffe had come yet, so the Inquisition was still on its own. No matter; neither Leliana nor Cassandra seemed to care.

 _At least the Crossroads is doing well,_ Ahnnie thought, looking about the village square with a hint of reminiscence in her gaze. The day was gray and everything lightly dusted in white, but she could see how it had progressed since the last time she was there. More buildings stood whole, more merchants clamored in the marketplace, the people didn't look half as frightened or impoverished...they were not necessarily doing the best in terms of supplies, but on the topic of morale, everything was going swell. _Not even the news of Redcliffe falling to Tevinters has managed to bring them down._ She liked to think it was because of the Inquisition's presence in the area.

Then a flitting shape swished past the corner of her eye and she instinctively whipped her head in its direction. She had just barely followed the hem of a dark cloak before it disappeared around the corner along with whoever was wearing it.

Ahnnie cocked her head to one side, curious. She'd seen this figure slinking about the square several times now; he never seemed to have any purpose, just flitting between people as if in search – or maybe anticipation? – of something or someone. She almost swore she'd seen him a few days prior, but no sighting of him was so clear as it was now. He was interesting, but only for the few seconds that he could be seen.

Then a woman came in from the corner whom Ahnnie recognized as the village baker, and she resumed her people watching with the little exchange the baker was having with a vendor. She couldn't hear the words from this distance, but it looked like they were having a heated exchange...after the baker left, a little ruffian crossed the square with darting fingers no purses or pockets were safe from. Ahnnie sighed, lamenting the circumstances that led to this profession (if one could call it a profession). The boy was only, what...ten? Eleven? She had seen him several times in the act of running into people or helping them pick up things they dropped, or some such social ruse that rendered them unaware of his tactics. Sometimes it was as blatant as reaching into the pocket of a back-facing victim.

She traced his lanky figure to the back of such a person and felt herself tensing as he reached for the man's purse. Cue her surprise when the man he was stealing from turned out to be the cloaked figure from before.

But something seemed different with him this time...he was standing _too_ still, and Ahnnie feared it was in anticipation of the sneaky little fingers reaching behind him. Alarm bells went off in her head and she hastily strode in their direction.

She arrived just as the man spun around with reflexive speed to ensnare the young wrist in a bronzed, olive hand. He barked a triumphant "Got you!", causing the boy to jump.

That voice seemed vaguely familiar, and that skin was so much like Krem's...a flash of mustache from beneath the hood confirmed her suspicions. "Dorian?"

The cloaked man gave a start. "What?" he barked into the crowd, unable to discern who had called to him, and the little ruffian slipped out of his grasp in that distracted second. "Drat! Oh, well, you lose some, you win some..."

Ahnnie tilted herself to the side, trying to get a better look under the hood. "Dorian?" she asked again. "Is that y–"

"Well don't go blaring my name about like a royal pronouncement!" he snapped. "Last I recalled, I was trying _not_ to make a public appearance. And if you have to ask if it's me, then it most likely _is_ me."

Her lips twitched in amusement. There was no mistaking the airy, unconcerned arrogance that had accosted them in Redcliffe's Chantry. Even his irritation seemed relaxed, his admonition more like a light-handed joke than a sharp reproach. "Sorry. Just wanted to be sure."

With a huff, Dorian smoothed out a crease in his cloak. "An amateur mistake, but one I can forgive...erm..." He turned about to face her, confused. "I'm sorry. I don't think we were properly introduced. You are...?"

"Everyone just calls me Ahnnie," she supplied.

"Ahnnie. Yes. Charmed–"

She tipped her head forward. "Likewise."

Dorian raised a brow, intrigued. "They've been teaching you court etiquette, I see."

"It's not one of my strong points," she blushed. "I just say whatever they tell me to say...How long have you been here, if I may ask?"

"Three days, but I've been out and about the Hinterlands all this time – nothing like hopping from inn to dirty inn and subsisting on piss disguised as beer to get the blood stimulated." He readjusted his hood and drew his cloak closer about him, smiling wryly.

"We have spiced wine in the commander's tent."

Light hazel eyes brightened as though gazing upon treasure. "Now that's a trap if I ever saw one! Let me guess: you're going to lure me in and throw a bag over my head before tying me up and throwing me into a cell, cursing my lineage and the people who share it all the while?"

"Oh, no, no, no! I was actually inviting you to come speak with us," she clarified with a hint of laughter. "We're not all hostile towards Tevinter...in fact, I have a friend who's from there. You said you'd keep in touch, plus you'll want to know what's going on."

"Oh? Did Alexius invite you to meet with him yet? I didn't hear anything..."

"No, it's, um, something else." She wasn't entirely sure they could speak of it in the open. "But Cassandra would love to have you, since you knew Magister Alexius."

"Something _else_?" Dorian rubbed his chin in thought. "Hmm. A sneaky Inquisition. I like the sound of that..."

She was shocked. "H-how do you know it's for something...sneaky?"

He looked at her incredulously for a moment before letting out a laugh. "Dear me! Could you possibly be as naive as I think you are? What other purpose would you want me for, if I couldn't give you creative ways to stab my old mentor in the back?"

Ahnnie blinked, completely taken aback. "R-right..." Despite the hilarity in his voice, she found it hard to reciprocate, and not just because he might have offended her. _He sure has an...interesting way of putting things. I wonder if he truly means it? I mean, he's not as sensitive as Felix, but at least..._ Speaking of the Magister's son, "I don't suppose you've seen Felix recently? Is he all right?"

Dorian shook his head. "I haven't seen him since I left Redcliffe. Kind of you to ask, though."

"No problem...we've actually been getting reports that he was sick, but I didn't know if you knew _how_ sick."

"Ah." Dorian sighed. "Well, that's...You see, Felix's sickness is not your normal everyday chronic illness. It's...I don't know if you've heard of it, but it's the Blight sickness."

"Like, from darkspawn?" she asked.

"Precisely," nodded Dorian. "He used to attend the University of Orlais you know, and was going with his mother to Hossberg for winter vacation when their party was attacked by hurlocks. The creatures were driven off, but his mother didn't make it. He caught the taint and has been wasting away ever since."

That sounded horrible. "Is there no way to cure it?"

"If there was, us Thedosians wouldn't be making such a fuss out of it," Dorian replied dryly. "Segregation, quarantine, abandonment, death...those are the treatments the Blight sickness more often elicits. Felix is one of the luckier ones. Even so, it's only a matter of time."

"I see..." _No wonder his father seemed so worried._ That didn't excuse Magister Aelxius' actions, of course, but to forego the dire precautions most people took with the infected, to overlook any worry of contagion, even striving to keep his sick son close – that took devotion. A sad thing conflict would soon be coming their way. Shaking the thought from her head, Ahnnie brought herself back to reality and asked the more important question: "So, do you want to come?"

She thought he might take a while to answer, given his earlier reservations. But surprisingly enough, perhaps pleasantly so, he nodded in agreement. "And remember, you promised me spiced wine!"

* * *

The time soon came when the Magister sent a messenger setting the date for the talks. It was a balmy day for winter, gentle and mellow yet still retaining the crisp frostiness characteristic of its season. The Inquisition went on horseback to a castle overlooking the village on a hill, dark and imposing.

"My lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived." The announcement echoed against the vaulted audience hall of Redcliffe castle like an ominous declaration.

Except for the crackling of a fire, everything else seemed deathly still. The white robed guards lining either side of the hall didn't help, so silent and unmoving they seemed to be statues. Their masks were extremely off-putting, too; horned and sharp, they reminded Ahnnie of Japanese oni masks, an image no self-respecting Orlesian would ever consider donning.

Alexius had been seated upon a throne, his form a dim silhouette against the roaring blaze in the hearth behind him. His son stood close by, and Enchanter Fiona, she noticed, directly off to the side of the throne's dais. As Ahnnie approached, Alexius rose to his feet and spread his arms in welcome. "My friend! It's so good to see you again. And your associates, of course," the Magister added, giving her companions a perfunctory bow. "I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties."

Her associates consisted of Cassandra, Solas, and Varric, with two cloaked soldiers; a small envoy fitting for the occasion. She stood at the head of the group, the others close behind her and the soldiers bringing up the rear. She already knew what to say, using both common sense and previous rehearsals to construct the answer. "I am glad to see you too, Magister Gereon Alexius. We all look forward to seeing what can be accomplished with you today; we feared for a moment that you had forgotten all about us."

The Magister chuckled good-naturedly. "For which I sincerely apologize. I hope you'll forgive me; there've been many matters to attend to, so many things to do."

Ahnnie smiled back. "I hope your son, Felix, is doing well."

"He is, thank you."

Before they could exchange any more pleasantries, Enchanter Fiona cut in with a question – "Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?"

A flash of disapproval crossed the Magister's face. "Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives," he reminded her.

Ahnnie looked from Enchanter to Magister, then back. "If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of these talks," she began, "then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition."

There was a moment of weighty silence. Alexius did not seem pleased, but neither did he contradict her. Fiona, on the other hand, nodded gratefully in her direction. "Thank you."

Ahnnie nodded back in acknowledgement, face calm but chest thudding. It seemed a risky move to have spoken like that, especially of her own accord than any given instructions. Still, it gave her a measure of satisfaction; it felt like a show of the long overdue defiance to similar figures in her life, a moment of salvation won for the past. Alexius was beginning to remind her too much of that.

The Magister turned around to sit back on his throne. Crossing a leg, he looked down on the party with an almost bored expression. "The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So...what shall you offer in exchange?"

Her heart's pace picked up again at that, but not because of nervousness. No, this time she was excited. For when it came to this part of the plan, it boiled down to one simple sentence. _S_ _ay whatever you want, so long as it buys us the time._

No stressing over the right thing to say; no need to memorize phrases, to rack her brain when she couldn't remember them, or fear any stuttering and stumbling; just whatever she had the inclination to say, so long as it gave them the time. She could now breath a calming sigh and relax the mental grip of anxiety, for she had the freedom to say what she wished, what was in her head and her heart, without any repercussions:

"Nothing at all. I'm just going to take the mages and leave."

The displeasure on his face was much more obvious now. "And how do you imagine you'll accomplish such a feat?" he asked, his voice grating.

"I _would_ just up and leave, but I heard that time magic is much faster."

Alexius' features contorted into a slideshow of confusion, horror, then fury. _Maybe I went too far,_ Ahnnie thought, but it was only a halfhearted regret. Her body tingled with a mischievous excitement, the likes of which she didn't think she could feel at the age of twenty. It took all her willpower to keep a straight face.

The Magister gripped the armrests of his throne. "How dare you–"

"She knows everything, Father." Felix turned to him, a remorseful yet grim expression planted on his features.

It took Alexius a while to process that, to have the realization dawn upon him like a slow, creeping chill. "Felix...what have you done?"

"He's concerned that you're involved in something terrible," Ahnnie answered, coming to Felix's defense. "He only did this because he cares–"

"So speaks the thief," the Magister spat. "Do you think you can turn my son against me?" Departing from his throne once more, he paced deliberately towards the edge of the dais, glaring down at Ahnnie and her group. "You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark – a gift you don't even understand! – and think you're in control? You're nothing but a mistake."

It took strength to glare back into those eyes. A part of her instinctively quaked at the acid in his voice, shrinking backwards with shame at the stinging remark – _nothing but a mistake..._ But she willed herself to quash it and remember that she wasn't here to be afraid. She was here to stall for time. "You know what happened to the Conclave, then?" she asked. "What caused the explosion; what created this mark; what killed the Divine...?"

"It was the Elder One's moment, and you were unworthy even to stand in his presence."

Ahnnie's eyes widened in shock, and she thought she could hear a startled gasp hiss from Cassandra. _The Elder One! So the Venatori are involved with him too?_ She had completely forgotten about him, banished any notions of him back to the farthest corners of her head. Now, though...

"Father!" Felix cried. "Listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?"

"He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be," a familiar voice supplied.

Alexius whipped his head in the voice's direction, eyes narrowing. "Dorian."

The Tevinter mage pulled back his hood, revealing himself as one of the cloaked soldiers. "Magister," he returned, dryly.

Alexius' jaw tightened. "I gave you a chance to be a part of this," he growled. "You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe; he will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

"Who is this Elder One?" Cassandra barked, unable to hold back her temper any longer. "A mage?"

"Soon he will become a god," Alexius intoned. "He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas..." The more he spoke, the more his rage was replaced with a wistful sort of glaze – still hostile, still sharp, but idyllic and hopeful at the same time.

"You can't involve my people in this!" Fiona cried, horrified.

Dorian wholeheartedly agreed. "Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen!" He held out his hands pleadingly. "Why would you support this?"

The Magister glowered at the sight of his former pupil before turning away, as if disgusted; with his eyes preoccupied on the fire, he failed to notice the guards farthest down the hall quietly collapsing to their feet.

"Stop it, Father," Felix begged with a hand on Alexius' shoulder. "Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home."

"No!" Alexius whirled around again, desparate. "It's the only way, Felix. He can save you!"

"Save me?"

"There _is_ a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple..." He slowly turned towards Ahnnie, eyes haunted and hungry for something she knew she wouldn't be pleased about.

"I'm going to die," Felix stated plainly, his voice purposeful. "You need to accept that."

The Magister's breath caught and he looked for a moment as if he were about to choke. "Seize them, Venatori!" he then thundered, an accusatory finger thrust Ahnnie's way. "The Elder One demands this girl's life!"

 _No more flattery, I see,_ Ahnnie observed absentmindedly. Despite knowing what would happen next, she half expected the Venatori to surround them and capture the day...instead, as Alexius stared in horror, the Venatori guards fell forward to reveal green hooded Inquisition agents as their silent and quick assailants. Another agent slinked into the room from a side door and gave a quick report.

"Castle is secured, ser. All others captured or killed."

Ahnnie nodded at the agent and looked back at the Magister with a hard stare. "Your men are dead, Alexius."

The Magister shook his head and took a step backwards, as if he refused to believe the reality of what lay before him. "You...are a mistake!" he hissed. "You should never have existed!" As he spoke the last words, his hand crackled with a green-blue magic. He raised it upwards and a strange, cubic amulet floated from the center of his palm, glowing the same eerie green-blue and emitting sparks like a live wire.

"No!" Dorian shouted, whipping out the staff hidden on his back to throw a powerful swipe of magic the Magister's way.

He managed to stun Alexius, stopping whatever spell he was in the middle of casting and making the man dizzy in the process. But a loud explosion like a giant thunderclap or gunshot reverberated across the hall, sending vibrations through the floor that could be felt deep in the chest. A swirling green mass appeared in its wake, not a rift but dark and whirling like a deep emerald whirlpool.

Having been closest to it, Ahnnie suddenly felt herself hurled into weightlessness; she thought she could hear Dorian screaming beside her, but she could not tell. Everything seemed to consist of nothing but flashing green lights before receding into darkness...


	26. Chapter 24

_Splash!_

Out she fell into a faceful of cold water. With a startled gasp, Ahnnie scrambled to her feet, sopping wet and coughing like the devil was in her throat. She brusquely wiped her face and spat out any water she could feel on her tongue. After her coughs subsided it took an effort to straighten herself, especially with a pronounced ache in her side, but straighten she did and gave her surroundings a dazed, wide-eyed look.

 _It looks like a flooded cellar? No, a prison,_ she thought when she saw barred metal doors guarding empty cells. The room was small and dark, save for the glowing orange-red crystals jutting out from the walls. She wagered a guess that they were red lyrium.

The water shifted behind her and she whirled around in fright, withdrawing the glaive and holding it out defensively. Up from the shallow depths rose a soaked Dorian, cloak heavy and clinging. With a nonchalant grunt, he slipped it off and let it sink into the water. Ahnnie breathed a sigh of relief as she fully recognized him and lowered her weapon. He didn't seem to notice or care, though.

"Displacement?" he was murmuring, fingers tapping on his staff. "Interesting. It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us...to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?" He knelt down closer to the ankle-high water and frowned at it, as if he could feel the said energy within its murkiness.

Ahnnie stepped towards him, making little splashes as she went. "It didn't look like a rift to me."

Dorian shrugged. "Any hole in the fabric of existence is candidate for being labeled 'rift' in my book. Now let's see...last I remembered, we were in the castle hall. If we're still in the castle, it isn't...Oh!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet in a Eureka moment. "Of course! It's not simply where – it's when!"

"Wh-what?"

His voice grew excited as he explained his discovery to her. "Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!"

"Wh-what!?" Ahnnie repeated, eyes wider than before. "Did we go back? Or forward? And h-how far?"

"Those are _excellent_ questions," he praised. "We'll have to find out, won't we? Let's look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back...if we can."

* * *

They seemed to have been deposited into a neglected prison chamber. Ahnnie could only surmise that it was neglected, for who would let a prison fall into such stagnant conditions? The cell doors were rusted tight and rotten wooden crates lay smashed throughout. It was easy enough finding the way out, for the chamber only led forward, up to a little staircase guarded by a door. The door was conveniently unlocked and the pair stepped through to a small landing at the bottom of a larger staircase. Glowing red lyrium pulsated in a corner of the room and along the walls like angry red welts.

The more they went around these strange halls, the more evident it became that red lyrium was...everywhere. In the walls, on the floor, on the ceiling, clinging to the stone like tumorous growths. It made Ahnnie wonder whether the castle had already been infested when they arrived, or if the lyrium came later...how did red lyrium even grow? It wasn't like any crystal she'd ever seen or known of.

"Alexius has made a dreadful mess of this place, hasn't he?" Dorian remarked as they went through another desecrated hall for the umpteenth time. "Before, it was covered in the tackiest carvings of wolves and dogs I'd ever seen. This is not an improvement."

 _Ah, Dorian,_ Ahnnie sighed – _perhaps the situation isn't so bad if you're criticizing the interior decor._ His very presence was an anchor to her morale, which would have plummeted drastically had she been alone. The place was creepy enough with company.

"Oh, what's this?" Dorian mused as they came to a door with whitish light glowing between its crevices. "Well, this is certainly new. Perhaps we've reached our destination; assuming we were even going in a particular direction to begin with."

Ahnnie shrugged. "Let's open it?"

"If it's not locked–" He tested the knob, and luckily, it wasn't. "–very good! I think we're making progress!"

They both stepped through into a vaulted chamber illuminated with the whitish light by an unknown source and shielded their eyes a moment as they transitioned from the earlier dimness. The sound of crashing water indicated two long falls directly ahead of them, and the flooring of the chamber was actually stone and grated metal forming a suspended bridge above a sloshing pool.

The bridge led them three ways; straight to a raised drawbridge, and left and right to two doors...both of which were guarded by Venatori.

"Shit!" Dorian hissed as he realized his mistake. Neither of them had noticed the guards until the silver masked men left their posts and started rushing at them. Ahnnie whipped out her glaive again and rushed forward so as not to be crushed against the doorway when the battle came. She was assisted in her endeavor by two flaming missiles that knocked into both guards. A lucky thing these guards weren't mages.

She blocked her guard's sword with twists and turns of the glaive, aiming to trap his weapon in its hook. Foreign fighting styles would not distract her now, though she had to admit that the Tevinter style was pleasant to watch. She misread his next move, however, and fell for his feint; he thrust his blade forward for what would have been her side had she not tipped the glaive's shaft in time for a clumsy block. Nonplussed, she was about to draw back and form a counter plan when she noticed how dangerously close they both were coming to the edge.

With a nervous hop-step, she avoided his sweeping foot at the last moment and swung her glaive before her in defense. Corporal Hargrave's voice ringing in her ear, she pushed the hook of her glaive forward while the guard was attempting another kick and watched it catch the sword's edge, before twisting it downward and roughly shoving him towards the precipice. Her heart beat with anticipation as she watched him careening and flailing, and she froze, not quite ready to deliver the final blow, when a bolt of fire did it for her.

It took a while before she heard the splash, and butterflies tickled her stomach as she thought of how far the drop was.

Ahnnie whirled around to see that Dorian had made record time with his guard, who was smoking crisply on the bridge. An amused smirk curved beneath the dark mustache. "About time. Here I thought you would keep me waiting longer."

She gulped, not one for humor at the moment. "What now?"

"Well, we have two choices..." He pointed to the doors. "Left, or right. Forward is not an option at the moment."

Ahnnie looked in both directions and wondered what the Venatori were guarding. "We should probably hurry before someone realizes what's up...um, let's take the right door?"

"Of course, but first thing's first." He knelt down by the charred Venatori and rifled through the corpse's pockets. "These should come in handy," he remarked as he withdrew a ring of keys. "And, oh...what's this?"

Ahnnie's eyes widened at the black and silver box Dorian pilfered from the guard's belt. It was punctuated on the top left with a long rubber antenna and modified slightly in the middle with a strange aquamarine glass.

"A _walkie-talkie_!?" she exclaimed.

"A what-what?" Dorian asked.

She knelt down beside him and touched the thing with trembling fingers. "It's...it's a modern invention...from Earth! But why is it here? What...what is it doing in Thedas?"

The surface of the aquamarine glass suddenly shifted, and the barest outlines of a Venatori mask were coming into play. Rather than static, there was a sort of crystalline ringing emanating from the speaker, and a clear voice began pulsing through.

Before they could hear what was said, though, Dorian slid the walkie-talkie across the floor with a grim face. "I see. It's a communication device. I don't suppose these walkie-whatsits came with memory crystals where you're from?"

"Memory...?" She shook her head. "No. But interactive screens aren't too far from the mark."

The Tevinter mage rose to his feet and gestured for her to do the same. "Come, let's go through that door...I have a feeling we don't have much time left."

* * *

 _Why would walkie-talkies be in Thedas?_ She frowned as she entered a small antechamber behind Dorian, watching as he carefully shut the door and stuffed the keys into his pocket. _Why_ just _walkie-talkies? Those guards fought with swords; if the Venatori now has access to Earth devices, then why not go all out with guns? Why even continue using regular keys when there's card scans, fingerprint scans,_ _hell, retina scans?_

The more Ahnnie thought of it, the more it seemed as though the Venatori had recently discovered Earth technology. Perhaps they were experimenting with it – picking and choosing which aspects to use whilst adding their own, like the magic crystal screen – she didn't know how much time had passed, after all. If this was the past, then they had been aware of Earth as she feared. If this was the future...

 _Magic can actually do the same as a lot of other stuff on Earth, perhaps even better,_ she thought, trying to downplay her anxiety; although the Venatori picked up on the instant communication part, which Ahnnie remembered not being a feature of Thedas until now.

They exited the antechamber into yet another one that presented them with two metallic doors to choose from. Dorian inserted a key into the nearest one and slowly slid it open. Its hinges were newly oiled, so it made little to no sound. It didn't matter anyway, for a voice filled the empty space the moment the door was opened.

"...the Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next."

Ahnnie stiffened. She recognized the voice...but not the grainy undertone.

Dorian entered first, staff held out defensively; Ahnnie followed with hesitant footsteps, bewildered eyes taking in the scene of another prison, but not neglected this time.

"For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water," the voice continued to echo. Every word sent chills down Ahnnie's spine.

As far as she knew, the prison cells here were empty, save for whoever was speaking. She was proved wrong when she saw an unconscious man in a cell to their right...but then it occurred to her that he might actually be dead. Ahnnie looked back ahead and tried to forget him. The voice continued to pray in the meanwhile, growing louder as they advanced. They finally came to its source, trapped behind yet another prison cell. Sitting in it, worn, exhausted, emaciated, was Seeker Cassandra.

"C-Cassandra!" Ahnnie choked, dropping to her knees by the bars. "What happened to you?"

The Seeker, once proud and robust, was now reduced to a shell of her former self. Her eyes were gaunt and dark, like a person starved of sleep, and her once supple limbs hung limp in defeat. Her hair had grown out as well, but was shabbily cared for. Most unnerving of all was an eerie red glow emanating from her person. She slowly looked up at the girl, crimson smoke swirling about her thin cheekbones and caressing the lower corners of her eyes.

"Ahnnie?" she murmured. "You've returned to us...can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance?"

"Cassandra, what happened?" Ahnnie repeated, desperate.

The woman lowered her head in what looked like shame. "Maker forgive me. I failed you; I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life."

"Dead? I – I didn't die," Ahnnie protested. She shook her head. "That doesn't matter. You're hurt! We can help...Dorian, do you think one of those keys can open the cell?"

The Tevinter mage bent down to the door's lock and tried it out. As he was twisting key after key, Cassandra stared hopelessly at them through the bars. "Nothing you do can help me now," she said. "I'll be with the Maker soon."

But at last, the door swung forward, and prison bars obstructed them no longer. Ahnnie dove in and helped the Seeker to her feet, not taking no for an answer.

"Alexius has sent us forward in time," Dorian deduced from the Seeker's state. "If we find him, we may be able to return to the present."

Cassandra shot up more quickly at that, and some of the former sharpness returned to her eyes. "Go back in time? Then...can you make it so that none of this ever took place?"

"We would have to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here," Dorian explained. "If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left. Maybe."

"Then we must find it posthaste–"

"I said _maybe_ ," Dorian reminded her. "It might also turn us into paste."

"Still, you must try," Cassandra insisted spiritedly. "Any chance we have at all is worth the risk."

It relieved Ahnnie to see that some of the fire still remained in the older woman. She met those fierce eyes and nodded with a firm resolve. "We'll do our best, that I promise. Could you..." She suddenly faltered, wondering if she really wanted to know. "Could you tell us what happened?"

Cassandra's eyes grew grim again. "Alexius' master...after you died, we could not stop the Elder One from rising. Empress Celene was murdered. The army that swept in afterwards – it was a horde of demons, followed by the most destructive warfare anyone had ever seen. Nothing stopped them. Nothing."

Ahnnie gulped. She had a bad feeling she knew what the 'destructive warfare' was. "What about the others – did they make it? Are they here too?"

The answer cut more deeply than expected: "I do not know. Most of us in the Inquisition were captured, some killed. I have lost track since...since I came here. The only thing I do know is that Varric and Blackwall are kept further down the hall."

"We must get to them!" Ahnnie wasted no time in rushing down that direction, moving so quickly neither Dorian nor Cassandra had time to react. She zipped past the cells until she spotted a familiar squat figure sitting within one, whom she startled into looking up as she skidded to a stop.

"Andraste's sacred kickers," Varric swore, smoky voice more hoarse than it used to be. Like the Seeker, he also seemed weakened and had that strange red glow about him. "You're alive?"

"Yes," Ahnnie breathed, a relieved smile playing on her lips, "I am."

"Where were you? How did you escape?"

Dorian jogged up from behind and put the keys to work. "We didn't escape," he clarified. "Alexius sent us into the future."

The door swung open with a satisfying squeal. Varric got up to his feet and grinned from ear to ear. "Everything that happens to you is weird." Upon spotting Cassandra coming up behind Dorian, the dwarf gave her a reverent nod. "Long time no see, Seeker. Or at least, not freely. How've you been?"

"As good as anyone who's been imprisoned here," she responded dryly.

"Where's Blackwall?" Ahnnie asked, looking about the cells.

The smile fell from Varric's face. "Yeah...about Blackwall...you probably don't want to see him. He's..."

"Has he succumbed to it?" Cassandra asked softly.

"Well, they haven't carted him out yet," Varric pointed out, "but that's no real consolation, now is it?"

Ahnnie gulped, one thought leading to another. "What about...Solas?"

Both Seeker and dwarf were silent for a moment, which Varric later broke with a dry chuckle. "Oh, him? I dunno. No one's heard from him since this all started. Try not to let it get to you, kiddo...it ain't gonna help you any. Trust me."

Ahnnie looked from Cassandra to Varric. It made her wonder if Blackwall suffered from the same affliction as theirs. As for Solas...she could only hope he managed to evade it all. "What's happened to you?" she asked them both sadly.

"Bite your tongue," Varric chided. "I look damn good for a dead man."

"You're no more dead than we are," Dorian remarked.

The dwarf shook his head. "The not-dying version of this red lyrium stuff? Way worse. Just saying."

Ahnnie stiffened. "Red lyrium? Is that what–"

But a hand on her shoulder kept her question unfinished. "Do not concern yourself with that. Find Alexius and reverse this horrible reality – then it will never have to be."

 _Cassandra..._ even after all that had happened to her, she still tried to keep Ahnnie's thoughts from wandering too far. Just what she was trying to distract from, however, unnerved the girl deeply.

"You want to take on Alexius?" Varric piped up, cutting through those troubled thoughts. "I'm in. Let's go."

Cassandra gave him a resolute nod. "Alexius locks himself in the throne room these days. That is where we'll find him."

"Why am I not surprised?" Dorian sighed, and turned around to lead the way out of the prison. "First thing's first; we'll have to get the both of you armed. There's a dead guard outside who doesn't need his sword anymore. A pity the other one fell into the water, otherwise–"

"Freeze!"

As if in response, a chill ran down Ahnnie's spine. She whirled around with Cassandra and Varric to find a Venatori guard standing before them, a sleek black pistol steady in his hands and trained upon the middle of their group.

"I don't think you understand how that spell works," Dorian joked as he brought his staff forward for an actual spell.

"Wait!" Ahnnie cried, but pushed the staff aside a hair too late. Though it was muffled by a suppressor, the crack of the gunshot was unmistakable. She found herself flinching and shutting her eyes instinctively upon hearing the noise. The weight of Dorian's stumble was what startled them open again, and for one dreadful millisecond, she feared he had been fatally struck.

The crimson blooming across his shoulder told her he hadn't, but he was no less hurt. "Damn," he ground out, and quickly recomposed the grip on his staff to aim a spell.

But the guard was quicker than that. It only took a slight raise of the arm, and his pistol was up for another round. It was Ahnnie's equally quick hands, raised into the air, that gave him pause.

"We surrender," she blurted out. "Please. Don't shoot." She unstrapped her glaive and dropped to her knees for good measure.

Dorian looked at her as though she'd gone mad. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Just do it," she hissed back, and forcefully pulled the staff out of his hands. "He only needs to press that trigger, and you'll be dead in an instant."

Varric and Cassandra adopted the same stances, eyeing the pistol warily. Dorian complied only after watching them go down, sinking slowly with an unpleasant grimace on his face.

The Venatori's shoulders relaxed upon seeing them submit. "Trouble in Sector D," he reported to a mic on his collar, an action evident through his mask by the slight turn of his head. "Two intruders have released two of the subjects–"

A little shape suddenly dashed for the guard's side opposite the mic. In a forceful tackle, Varric knocked the guard down onto his back. The dreaded pistol flew through the air but Cassandra's hands caught it before it could make contact with the ground. The downed guard made a flailing grab for a taser in his belt, but Varric beat him to it and tased him repeatedly between his armor. He then tore off the helmet and grabbed the guard by the collar, finishing his assault with an angry slam of the helmet to the man's exposed temple.

The dwarf spat as he rose to his feet, dumping the Venatori unceremoniously on the stone floor in the process. "You were saying something about weapons?" he asked with a look back at Dorian.

"Here." Cassandra gave the pistol to him. "You could probably make more use of this than I ever would."

"Just like old times, eh, Seeker?" Varric chuckled as he tested the weight of the pistol in his hands. Then he sighed. "Ah, do I miss Bianca..."

Cassandra went immediately for the guard's sword belt, hesitating slightly at the taser but picking it up anyway. She tested it by pressing the button on its side and flinched when it made a sharp crackle. Then she put it into its slot in the belt, satisfied. "How did you know to surrender so quickly?" she asked Ahnnie, curious. "You said you were sent straight to the future from the meeting with Alexius. You couldn't have been here when these things were first used..."

The girl blinked and looked up at the Seeker. "It's a gun," she said at last, strapping the glaive back on as she did so. "Where I come from, it's a common weapon."

Varric raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't mean..."

"Maker!" Dorian swore. "The Venatori can access other worlds now."

Remembering Dorian, Ahnnie zeroed in on his shoulder. "O-oh no! You got hit–" But when she parted the fabric, she found it was only a graze. "Okay, that's better than I thought. But yeah...word of caution...guns shoot metal things called bullets. They're small but have the force to pierce through people faster than the blink of an eye."

Dorian winced as he got back up to his feet, using his staff as support. "What an...interesting world you used to live in." Despite the gist of his remark, something in his tone told her he was not liable to underestimate firearms again.

"We must leave, now," Cassandra barked, "before reinforcements show up. And believe me, they are coming soon."

"Oh, I believe you," Ahnnie said as they began to head out. "Mics and walkie-talkies are common communication devices where I come from, too."

"Damn. Makes me wonder what other monstrosity they took from your world," Varric remarked.

 _I hope we don't have to find out,_ she thought with a shudder.

* * *

Ahnnie and Dorian found themselves back on the bridge above the floor of water, having discovered no other way out. The other metal door in the antechamber led into yet another prison, which they quickly left behind when one of the prisoners – or, 'subjects' – started loudly protesting their presence.

The moment they stepped onto the bridge, it was to find the drawbridge from before lowered with several armed Venatori pouring down it. Dorian raised his staff and swept it down in an encompassing arc before him. A border of fire erupted between their group and the Venatori, buying them the advantage of confusion for a few precious seconds. Varric shot into the wall of flames while Dorian hurled as many strikes as he could to push as many guards possible off the bridge.

At the same time, stray shots rang out from the Venatori's side. Ahnnie weaved and ducked and jumped each time she heard one, heart close to stopping whenever a sharp _zing_ or _clink_ echoed on the metal grating or stone close by. It prevented her from coming close to the thick of the battle; Cassandra, on the other hand, made a mad zig-zagging dash through the smoke and successfully connected her blade to one of the guards.

When the last one was dealt with, it took them all a few moments of apprehension, squinting through the smoke, before they were comfortable enough to move forward.

"It should lead to the guard's barracks," Cassandra remarked breathlessly, pointing at the drawbridge.

"There weren't that many of them out here," Dorian frowned. "I don't think I'd relish running into the rest of their colleagues."

"That way's just another prison," Varric said when Dorian moved his eyes to the door leading left. "Nothing useful there, unless you want to free a few more prisoners."

Dorian looked ahead, and then back. "It'd be nice to amass a force," he murmured, "but...damn if we don't have the time. I don't suppose you know anyone who's kept in there?"

Varric shook his head. "I used to be there in a cell next to Sera, but...well, she's gone now. Other than that, I don't know a single person."

Ahnnie's jaw tightened. _No, S_ _era..._ It was hard to imagine the eccentric Red Jenny just...gone. Of all the companions, Sera seemed the most foolhardy. It made her wonder what fate befell the Iron Bull and his Chargers, if even this was enough to bring down Sera. "Forward, then?" she asked weakly, looking up at Cassandra. _Just like old times,_ she thought, before mentally shaking it away. _What am I saying? It's been less than a day for me. C'mon, Ahnnie, stop making things feel worse than they already are._

"That is our best bet," the Seeker affirmed. "I heard the guards keep a sort of drug that boosts one's strength and energy. It would be beneficial for Varric and I to take some."

 _That doesn't sound suspicious at all,_ Ahnnie thought dryly as they went up the drawbridge. The door at the landing was open and admitted them into what looked like a moderately sized dining space, room enough for ten people at a time. Like the rest of the castle, nothing seemed different or off in the furnishings. It was a regular stone room decorated by a single wolf tapestry hanging on the opposite wall. One could hardly tell that Earthen technology had been utilized by its inhabitants; besides a gun rack off to the side, of course, and a red cross emblazoned first aid station.

But the most unnerving thing of all was that the place was empty. It truly appeared as if the guards they just fought had been the only ones there. The four of them fanned out and slowly crept forward, weapons drawn and ready. Ahnnie tensed with every step, expecting enemy reinforcements to burst out at any moment.

Then she heard the sound of a bottle of pills being shaken. "I wouldn't touch any of those if I were you," she warned, whipping her head towards the first aid station. "Drugs are...are just, no – no, I wouldn't. Especially if you can't read what's on the label. That bottle looks like most of it's in English, anyway."

Varric glanced at her with a cocked brow. "So that's what those strange runes are? And here I thought they were some form of ancient Tevene. Maybe you can read them–" And he tossed the bottle in her direction, startling her.

She was able to grab hold of it only after chasing it halfway under a dining table. "Um, it looks like ibuprofen," she called out after straightening up. "It's a painkiller. I don't know if '200mg' is anything powerful, but ibuprofen's not really strong stuff...just for headaches and fevers and whatnot."

Cassandra stopped her pacing and looked over her shoulder at Ahnnie. "Perhaps you can identify the drug we are looking for in that cabinet?"

"It doesn't look like it'd be in there," Ahnnie said. "The red cross means it's just first aid." _Or, well, it should be..._ but she was averse to giving either of her companions strange drugs, especially something that purportedly boosted energy.

The Seeker shrugged and turned back around. "Very well, then. Keep searching the premises. We must be sure we are truly alone here."

Ahnnie obeyed and put the ibuprofen down on the table before making her way to the nearest door. There seemed to be several of them accessible down the room, perfect places to hide more people. "Hey, Varric, if you don't mind coming with me..." She wasn't about to barge into a room potentially containing gunman armed with just a glaive, after all.

"No problem. Just let me get some ammo." It took him about a minute before he was by her side, pistol cocked and ready. She gazed at his back as he slowly opened the door, watching him point the pistol this way and that. "All clear," he assured her, and lowered his weapon.

Ahnnie took a step forward, taking in what looked like a study. "You seem to know a bit about guns?" she asked as she walked over to a desk, eyeing the papers on its surface.

"I've been watching how the guards use them," he explained. "Plus I handled a few before getting caught...Didn't want those bastards having the upper hand over all of us, even if it was just one or two pilfered here and there. It was bad enough losing Bianca."

She recognized the distinct shape of a manila folder amongst the papers, yet continued listening to him. "I'm sorry," she sighed as she opened the folder.

"What're you sorry for?" he chuckled hoarsely. "It's not like you wanted any of this."

"I know, but...to think all this happened because Dorian and I disappeared that day..."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault. What'd I tell ya?"

She cracked a smile. "Don't let it get to me. I kn..." She paused, bending down in the sparse light to make out the papers within the folder. _Hold up. It's in English. Very complicated English...s_ quinting, she skimmed through the wordy document, bypassing word after scientific word.

 _Subject. Respiratory. Sepsis, hypovolemic shock, cardiac arrest, seizure, trauma, cognitive–_

 _Red lyrium–_

 _Fiona._

Ahnnie's frown grew in intensity as she flipped through more papers. It soon grew apparent that this file was a log of all the 'subjects'. She recognized Cassandra and Varric's names farther down the line and read a few paragraphs that sickened her, but went back to the entry containing Fiona's name. What made it stand out was that it was placed near the top instead of alphabetically like the rest, and unlike the other subjects, Fiona had not been kept in the prisons – or 'sectors', as the Venatori guard had called them.

Rather, she was kept in a _Room E, testing chambers..._

Fired up by this discovery, Ahnnie put down the file and went behind the desk, flipping over papers, pulling out drawer after drawer.

"What're you doing?" Varric asked, bewildered.

"You didn't tell me you were being _experimented_ on," she accused, voice on the verge of choking.

Varric opened his mouth to say something, faltered, and then heaved a sigh. "Look, it wasn't something you needed to know..."

She finally believed she found what she was searching for and slapped the paper down with such force that her heart jumped. It was a map, and it, too, was in English. The label 'TESTING CHAMBERS' stuck out like a sore thumb. "By god," Ahnnie breathed. "Fiona's somewhere close by!"

"What–"

But before Varric could finish his question, she'd grabbed the map and dashed out of the study. Varric raced after her, alarmed.

"Hey! Hold up! Where're you going?" he called after her, alerting both Cassandra and Dorian at the same time. His voice seemed to fall on deaf ears, though; Ahnnie followed the hallway, rotating the map every time she made a corresponding turn, and within three minutes stopped before the door she was looking for.

ROOM E.

She reached for the knob, but it was locked tight.

"You forgot the keys in your rush," Varric pointed out to her, jogging breathlessly to her side.

"Oh..." Before she could take them, he unlocked the door for her anyway.

"Just make it quick," he said. "Cassandra's getting pissed back there. Better sate your curiosity before she catches up to you."

"...thanks." Ahnnie rolled the map up in her fist and pushed through the door, immediately bathing herself in a pulsing orange-red light. It hurt her eyes, not in a blinding way, but in more of a subtle ache; it was _everywhere_ ; and when she looked up, blinking through tears, a large mass of red lyrium growing through the floor and walls like a mutated stalagmite greeted her. She would not have thought anyone was trapped in it, if not for the dark ball of hair peeking between the angry red crystals. "Fiona?" she whispered, horrified.

The hair flinched and turned around, revealing a pinched and sallow face. "It's...it's you! You're...alive?" The Orlesian accent was still distinct even in Fiona's weak rasp. "How? I saw you...disappear..."

"What happened to you!?" Ahnnie cried upon realizing Fiona wasn't just trapped in the lyrium – it was growing from _within_ her _._

"Red lyrium...it's a disease. The longer you're near it...eventually...you become this." A shudder. "Then they mine your corpse for more."

The girl put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god." _I feel sick..._

"Alexius...serves the Elder One," Fiona continued. "More powerful...than the Maker...no one challenges him...and lives."

"Alexius..." Just the very thought of him was enough to make her blood boil. That wasn't even mentioning the ever mysterious Elder One. "We'll stop him and do what we can to set this right," she promised, using anger to keep her nausea down.

The former Grand Enchanter grimaced. "How...?"

"It was time magic that sent me and Dorian here," Ahnnie explained. "He believes if we can get to Alexius, we can turn back time."

For a moment, Fiona's eyes widened with excitement. "Please, do what you can...for all our sakes. Your spymaster, Leliana...she is here...find her! Quickly...before the Elder One...learns you're here."

"Leliana?" Ahnnie perked up. "Where?"

"She is...in what they call..."– a cough –"Room... _Z_..."

Ahnnie frowned. "Fiona? Are you all right?"

But the Enchanter didn't respond; she groaned, shuddered, and groaned some more. Ahnnie took a step forward, decided against it, and stepped back again. "I...I promise we'll fix this! Please don't...die..." But it was futile. The Enchanter likely didn't hear her, and was on the verge of death anyways. Choking back tears, Ahnnie whirled around and sped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"You didn't have to know," Varric murmured softly with a comforting hand on her arm.

"Indeed, that was very rash of you," Cassandra admonished from down the hall; she soon appeared alongside Dorian, clearly unhappy.

Ahnnie took a big sniff and shook her head. "I know. I'm sorry. But...we need to get to Room Z. Leliana's in there."

* * *

Two voices could be heard in the hall leading up to Room Z. Both were female, and both were heated.

"There is no Maker. The Elder One has taken all that is His and will soon rule from His city."

"That still doesn't make him a god."

A loud slap carried beyond the door, followed by a pained exclamation.

"There is no god but the Elder One. The Maker is dead! Say it!"

"Never!"

This time, it was the crackle of electricity. "There's no use to this defiance, little bird. There's no one left for you to protect."

Ahnnie reached the door by then and simply pushed it open; whoever was in there had been careless enough to leave it cracked open. _Careless, or relaxed?_ She drew out her weapon, and so did the others.

A woman with a tight blond bun and white lab coat took hold of a syringe on a nearby table. "You will break!"

The woman's victim, in contrast, was held suspended by the hands via a contraption of Thedosian make. "I will _die_ first!" she spat, and the voice was unmistakable; once delicate, it now held a jagged edge. If that wasn't enough of an indicator, her coppery red hair gleamed in the dim firelight, just as it had so many times in Haven's war room. But the once smooth and beautiful skin was tarnished – through the stresses of many tortures, Leliana looked like an aged zombie recently returned from the dead.

Ahnnie pushed the door aside with a bang and gaped at the Inquisition's spymaster in horror; the woman in the lab coat whirled around in response, presenting her back to Leliana.

"Or you will," the spymaster declared, and with an abdominal heave, used her legs to trap the woman's neck in a scissor-lock. A struggle ensued that lasted all of several seconds before a loud _snap_ pierced the room and the woman fell to the floor unconscious. Ahnnie stared wide-eyed at the scene before having the presence of mind to loot for keys. She avoided looking at the woman's neck, but a brief glimpse at the nameplate on the coat read _Dr. Calpernia Rowland._

 _Is this the same doctor who's been conducting all these experiments?_ she wondered in disgust. It felt gratifying yet perturbing to put a name to the notes in the manila folder. She finally found a set of keys in one of the pockets and stood on a stool to reach the cuffs on Leliana's wrists.

"You're alive," the spymaster whispered.

"You're tough," Ahnnie returned, and jumped off the stool as soon as the cuffs were unlocked. She moved to catch Leliana, but the redhead stood square and waved her hands away.

"Anger is stronger than any pain. Do you have weapons?"

Ahnnie nodded. "There're some back at the barracks, not too far from here."

"Good," Leliana commented. "The magister's probably in his chambers." Without further ado, she went to rifle through one of the cabinets as though nothing more than a minor trouble had inconvenienced her.

"Um, are you all right?" Ahnnie asked. "Don't you want to rest first?"

"The doctor gave me an injection of amphetamine," Leliana replied. "I should be fine for quite a bit." She withdrew two syringes, put needles to them, and tossed them over to Cassandra and Varric. "Inject these through a vein in your arm. Any vein will do. You'll need it. What about you?" she asked of Ahnnie and Dorian.

Ahnnie shook her head. "No thanks, we're fine." Then she looked away, suddenly squeamish at the sight of medical needles.

Beside her, Dorian gave Leliana a quizzical look. "You...aren't curious how we got here?"

"No."

"Alexius sent us into the future," Dorian explained anyway. "This, his victory, his Elder One – it was never meant to be."

Leliana's eyes darkened. "And mages always wonder why people fear them...no one should have this power."

"It's dangerous and unpredictable," Dorian agreed. "Before the Breach, nothing we did–"

"Enough!" she snapped. "This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist." She glared at the Tevinter mage, steel blue eyes glinting dangerously in the orange light. "I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was _real_."

"That's exactly what makes it so scary," Ahnnie murmured, and looked up pleadingly into the spymaster's haunted orbs. "Leliana...I'm so sorry you had to go through all that. He's not trying to say it isn't real, but...if we can do what we can to undo it, then..."

"We're done," Cassandra announced from the other side of the room. The pointed look in her eyes told Ahnnie she didn't wish the argument to be dragged any further.

Leliana nodded and strode for the door. "Follow me."

"Do you know how to get to where Alexius is?" Ahnnie asked. The map in her hand only detailed the floor they were currently on, and beyond that, the castle was one big maze of halls to her.

"We mounted a siege on Redcliffe Castle shortly after you disappeared," said Leliana. "Of course I would know. Just follow my lead, and we'll find the magister soon enough."

The ice in her tone promised that Alexius would regret being found.

* * *

Varric sucked in a disbelieving breath. "Maker's balls...this place is wrecked."

"What happened here?" Ahnnie asked, incredulous.

Leliana surveyed the scene before stalking forward with her bow held ready. "Perhaps Alexius isn't as well-off as we'd imagined."

Ahnnie followed close behind the spymaster and had to agree with her point. The courtyard was in shambles; it looked like a war zone from one of those pictures in the news back home. Broken stone littered the ground and black scorch marks marred the corners. Looming in the distance were what had once been the Castle towers; now they were just broken cylinders of stone, gaping like jagged teeth at the overcast sky above.

 _The wing we just left seemed perfectly fine,_ Ahnnie thought. _There were guards and even a mad scientist..._ but then it might explain why there were so few of the guards. "You didn't know any of this was happening?" she asked at last, addressing Leliana, Cassandra, and Varric.

"How could we?" Cassandra countered.

"But the guards _did_ seem more jumpy than usual," Varric supplied after some thought.

"Hmm." Ahnnie brought her attention back to their derelict surroundings, puzzled. Then a flutter of movement made her turn sharply to the right, and a split second later, a bright green rift exploded in the air.

"Demons!" Dorian cried, and they all grouped together instinctively as a pair of terror demons began spawning from the ground.

The injections of amphetamine had indeed made Cassandra and Varric more energized than they previously were. With an angry cry, the Seeker rushed into battle as ferociously as Ahnnie remembered. Varric tested a bullet on one of the demons, and then another, working up to a vital spot in its forehead, daring to come as close as Cassandra and even employing some of his familiar acrobatics. Leliana stood behind him, firing arrows – despite the range of availability between pistols and rifles, she had adamantly refused to pick up a firearm. A stubborn loyalty to the time before the chaos, but one Ahnnie hoped wouldn't be her undoing.

The girl ducked out of the path of one of Dorian's fireballs as she rushed to join Cassandra. After a series of slashes and stabs to the demon's stilt-like legs, they brought the monster down to be finished off by a sword through the torso. Ahnnie thrust her left hand at the rift shortly after, relishing for once the eerie pull of the mark to the rift.

Dorian watched the neon green mass explode with troubled eyes. "This is madness. Alexius can't have wanted this."

"As if he knew what he wanted in the first place," Leliana growled.

They continued on their way more wary than before. Passing into a hall, they found the inside no better than the outside: crumbling, charred, abandoned...at a certain point, Dorian had to light his staff with some fire since the sconces had been left unlit and the grey sky outside gave up little to no light through the windows.

Varric suddenly shot into the darkness, startling Ahnnie. "We got more company," he warned, and the screeching roar of a shade echoed from the darkness ahead.

Dorian sent balls of flame soaring down the hall, illuminating the dark limbs of three shades gliding on the stone. Leliana asked him to light his staff again and lit several arrows before loosing them onto the demons. The now burning shades became easier targets, and Ahnnie and Cassandra dove in a moment later to help get rid of them.

"There must be a rift here somewhere," Ahnnie thought aloud after they finished off the shades; for ahead in the distance, she could hear the screeching of several more.

"Can you sense one?" Cassandra asked.

The girl held out her hand, the mark of which held a steady green glow in the darkness, and shook her head. "The mark's not vibrating. Perhaps, if there is one, it's too far away."

"Rift or no rift, we'll just have to cut the demons down as we go," Leliana put in and continued leading the way. "The throne room is not far from here."

"Is Alexius even here after all?" Dorian ventured to ask as he trailed behind the spymaster. "This place looks..."

"Do I look like I'd send us all on a fool's errand?" Leliana retorted over her shoulder. "He's been in recent communication with the doctor. I should know; she liked to rub it in my face along with her Elder One shit every time she saw me."

Dorian blinked. "Well, sorry," he mumbled. "It was just a question."

Leliana huffed and turned back around. "Bring that flame closer," she ordered, and Dorian (most unhappily) walked faster to fall into step beside her.

They were all silent after that exchange, keeping their eyes and ears peeled instead for further enemies. After a while, they crossed into a large hall, and Leliana pointed at the towering door ahead of them. "There, the throne room." Even if she didn't say it, Ahnnie recognized the place they were standing in as the main hall of Redcliffe Castle. _A servant met us at the door and led us through here...he offered to take my cloak after he saw it had been soiled with mud._ Strange how important the little details became in random moments.

The five of them walked hesitantly up to the door, but when Varric pushed at it, it didn't budge. "Hmm." The dwarf slammed himself against it again, and then again. "Whatever Alexius' done with it, it's shut tight."

"No," Dorian argued, and felt it with his hand. "He's inscribed it with glyphs that only magic can open." His staff lit up with a whitish-blue light, and the etchings in the door suddenly glowed with the same. A circular device set in at the top creaked and spun, and the door itself opened up obediently. "There we go."

The throne room was just as Ahnnie remembered it, if not a little more tattered. A bright fire still burned in the hearth behind the dais, illuminating the figure of a well built man and a hunched one kneeling off to the side. The throne was gone, but the first man stood in its place with his back to the group. The large mechanic doors shut themselves as soon as the group were halfway to the dais, its ominous thud echoing against the vaulted ceiling.

"Alexius," Ahnnie called out; for who else could that man be? "It's over. We've found you."

"So it is," he acknowledged. He looked at her from over his shoulder. "I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn't destroyed you." He turned back to the fire. "My final failure," he whispered.

"Was it worth it?" Dorian asked. "Everything you did to the world? To yourself?"

"It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end."

Ahnnie frowned. "'The end'?" she echoed. "What do you mean by that?"

Alexius gave a wry chuckle. "The irony that you should appear _now,_ of all the possibilities. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death," he spat. "There is nothing else. The Elder One comes; for me, for you, for us all."

As the Magister spoke, Leliana stormed up the dais to the kneeling man. In an angry yank, she pulled him up from behind by the collar and slipped a dagger to his throat. The man was limp and unresponsive; if he was aware of what was happening, he didn't seem to show it. His eyes merely stared out at the throne room emotionlessly, not even blinking – a human vegetable. Alexius noticed from the corner of his eye a moment too late and whirled around in alarm.

"Felix!" he cried.

Dorian stared at the pale, blank-faced man with incredulity. "That's _Felix_? Maker's Breath, Alexius, what have you done?"

"He would have died, Dorian!" Alexius insisted. "Dr. Rowland _saved_ him!" To Leliana, he begged, "Please, don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask."

Ahnnie's frantic gaze went from Alexius to Felix and back again. "If you hand over the amulet, we will let him go," she quickly said, training her eyes next on Leliana, pleading silently that the spymaster would stay her hand.

"Let him go and I swear you'll get what you want," Alexius promised.

Leliana gave Ahnnie a sidelong glance before glaring back at the Magister. For a moment, Ahnnie believed Leliana was simply toying with him, forcing him into desperation. " _I_ want the world back," she hissed instead, and slid the dagger in one clean sweep across Felix's neck. Dark blood splattered the dais, even hitting Alexius' robes, and Leliana let the dead man fall flat into a pool of his own blood.

"No," Alexius breathed in horror. " _No_!" He immediately grabbed a long spear from a nearby wall and channeled a spell through it at Leliana; the wave of magic hit her square in the chest and spymaster fell back several feet with a thud. Alexius then brandished the spear threateningly against the rest of them and howled with a rage that rung sharply in their ears–

" _You will all pay for what you've done_!"


	27. Chapter 25

"Alexius," Dorian protested, "that isn't–"

"Silence!" Alexius pointed the spear at him. "You don't understand; you never have, and never will! As for you..." He turned the weapon towards Leliana, who was coming to her feet. Its pointed tip began to glow, and magic crackled forth.

 _Bang!_ The magic was disrupted and the Magister pitched forward. His eyes widened, then narrowed, and his face twisted into a grimace. A shaky hand went up to his shoulder, and when taken away, was covered in blood.

"Not on my watch," Varric spat. "This shit ends right here, right now."

"Five of us against one of you," Cassandra added. "Surrender now, Alexius; give us the amulet, and we will spare your life."

The Magister chuckled bitterly. His angry eyes wandered over to the corpse of his son, and there they faltered. "Spare my life!" he hissed, and winced in pain. Looking back at those before him, his eyes hardened again. "You are all fools! You had your chance...and if you think I should cater to your whim now, simply to _spare my life_...well, I hope you enjoy what the Elder One has in store for you."

With his free hand, Alexius wrapped an arm around Felix, tenderly, as if he should fear hurting him; with the other, he gripped the shaft of his spear and struck the stone floor. A blast of green magic swept across the dais, and Alexius suddenly disappeared.

Leliana's quick eyes spotted him kneeling in a far corner of the room. "You're not going anywhere." She loosed an arrow in his direction, arcing swiftly through the hall.

The Magister averted it with a last minute barrier and lashed out with the spear again. Magic shot forth from its tip, sundering the air like a crackling thunderbolt. A loud rip sliced through the middle of the throne room, opening in its place a bright green rift. Within seconds several beams shot down to the ground, spawning a host of demons that outnumbered the group seven to five.

"This is what it has come to," Cassandra murmured, and readied her sword. "So be it!"

Varric slapped the pistol clip back into his gun and cocked it. "We'll clear the demons for you," he told Ahnnie. "You go do what you gotta do."

There was nothing she could say to him now that would be half as helpful or epic. "Stay safe," she murmured instead, squeezing his arm.

Dorian brought out his staff, the tip of which glowed with an incoming spell. Without another word, the fight began; Ahnnie and Cassandra spread out, taking on the demons to the sides, while Dorian and Varric worked on taking down or weakening the ones before them. Leliana's arrows flew in from the side, piercing the hides of the demons that threatened to surround them all.

Their enemies were a mix of terror and shade demons, with two wraiths acting as support on either side of the room. It seemed manageable enough if they played their cards right, but dotting the ground beneath them, glowing in yellow and green, were the infernal time-warp circles.

"Yellow circle!" Ahnnie shouted across to Cassandra, who, to her credit, looked down instantly and sidestepped from the circle in time.

"Behind you!" the Seeker shouted back after looking up again, and Ahnnie whirled around in time to find a shade attempting to claw her back in addition to the one she fought in front.

The girl ducked and held her glaive out horizontally, so that both swipes missed her and the rear shade impaled itself against the bladed end. When she shot back up to deal with the front one, she spun the bladed end around and stabbed it through the demon's open mouth. The thing screamed, writhed, and then faded into dust.

On Cassandra's end, the Seeker was dancing between the tall legs of a terror demon, cutting through its elongated arm as it swung down at her, slashing at its torso whenever it bent low enough. At one point, she'd come close enough to a wall displaying decorative shields. With a deftness reminiscent of her earlier days, she tore one off and pushed her weight behind it to bash the creature into stumbling backwards.

The demon shrieked and made a quick rebound. Cassandra dashed forward, aiming to slide between the legs. One of the wraith balls suddenly hit her and almost made her trip. As she stumbled a green circle formed beneath her feet and she was blinked several steps ahead of her destination. She quickly whirled around, the demon screeching behind her as an arrow pierced its shoulder, and swung a punishing slash behind a knee. The sword cut through bone and severed the limb halfway. As the demon stumbled, she made a similar cut through the other knee that brought it down. Cassandra finished off the terror demon for good with a final stab to the back.

Varric, on the other hand, tried his best not to shoot into the main tangle of things. An arrow he could easily keep track of, but bullets were practically invisible the moment they shot out of the barrel. He had thus far been engaging his ammunition against a rather hardy shade and, thanks to some of Dorian's firebolts, managed to slow it down some. Ducking aside its long claws, he came as close to it as he had dared since the fight and aimed the pistol for its head. With another bang, he blast a hole through the demon's forehead.

From the corner of his eye, the dwarf noticed Cassandra and then Dorian falling prey to one of the wraiths' magic balls. He then took it upon himself in that moment to get rid of them lest they grew too troublesome. "One down," he counted as the first wraith poofed away beneath a bullet. But just was his luck, he stepped unwittingly into a yellow circle and the wraith was back in business again. "Oh, boy..."

* * *

Four demons down, with Varric working on another one. That left two more to go, should the dwarf succeed.

Despite the progress, time was slipping beneath their very fingers. With each minute unmolested, the rift lay like an open doorway for creatures of the Fade to pour through; precious minutes that could have been better used for figuring out the time traveling spell. As if on cue, two more beams deposited another pair of shades into the middle of the throne room, upon which Ahnnie and Cassandra turned their attentions to when their demons were defeated.

Dorian hissed in exasperation as he twirled his staff in a series of attacks against the new shades, tearing his focus away from the terror demon he and Leliana had been working on. The graze on his shoulder stung like a bitch and his nerves were drawing thin. "This is madness, Alexius!" he reminded his former mentor for the umpteenth time. "Just stop being stubborn and give us the amulet!"

Whether the Magister heard him or not, he did not show. At any rate, no one could be bothered to check. They were too preoccupied with the more immediate threat. Despite that, Dorian made it an imperative to reach the Magister as soon as possible. Once he saw that the other four appeared to have the situation in check, he ran between the time circles to where Alexius was hiding. He performed an athlete-worthy jump over the length of a yellow circle before preparing a counter spell under his breath, intended for breaking the barrier Alexius erected around himself and his dead son.

Broken stone suddenly flew in all directions as a terror demon leapt out of a hole in front of him. Dorian gave a startled yell and skidded backwards in surprise, but before he could draw out his staff, a well timed arrow pierced the demon's stomach. Upon closer inspection, this particular terror demon was studded with arrows in multiple places.

"He seems to like you," a once-mellifluous voice remarked from behind; even beneath the hardened edge, Dorian could tell it was once pleasant to hear.

"Or maybe he doesn't like _you_ ," the mage suggested as he sent more fire the demon's way. "You're not very pleasant company to be in at the moment. Were you ever? Even as a spymaster?"

What little rapport that had been built between them suddenly melted away the moment the terror demon was finally destroyed. "Go get the amulet from him," she commanded, as stony as before. "I'll hold your back in the meantime."

"Can't argue with that." Dorian turned back to the matter at hand and recited his spell from the top. It was luckily not a long one, but neither did it require the force he assumed it needed; the moment he spoke the last word, the barrier around the Magister shattered like broken glass. _By the Maker – you'd rip a hole in the Veil to stop us from getting the amulet, but erect a weak barrier to protect yourself?_ "Have you lost your mind?" he asked aloud as he came close.

Alexius appeared to not have heard. He was hunched over Felix like a protective animal, murmuring worriedly to himself. He was so engrossed that he did not seem to notice the blood dripping from his robe onto his son's tunic. "Oh Felix, how cold you've grown – were you always this pale? How your mother's heart would break if she saw you now."

"Of course he wasn't always that pale," Dorian broke in. He had thought of taking the Magister by surprise, but lost the heart upon listening to his ravings. "Dammit, Alexius. For how long did you keep him in that state? Surely you must have known he never would have wanted it."

A jaw muscle twitched irritably in Alexius' face. "You think I would not know the mind of my own son?" So he could hear what was being said to him, after all. _He was just being a stubborn ass._

"As far as you've taken things with this time magic and Elder One? No, you didn't know a single thing."

Alexius grit his teeth and swung the spear around. "How dare you–"

Dorian blocked it effortlessly with the tip of his staff. "You're but one person, Alexius. It's all right to not know everything, to not be in control. But I suppose if you had understood that, things would not have gone as far as they have." He sighed. Suddenly, he felt so tired. "Please, for everyone's sakes, just give it up. You're not going to last long with that bullet in your shoulder." An explosion sounded from behind them, and Dorian looked back to find the rift closed. "There. The Survivor's just foiled your plans. There literally is nothing else you can do. Come now, Alexius..."

When he still didn't budge, Dorian asked, "What would Livia say if she saw you now?"

The name seemed to stir something long forgotten in the man, as his suddenly wistful face betrayed. "Livia..." His hooded eyes, framed by care lines suddenly made more evident, looked back down at his son's corpse. "Felix...what did I do to deserve losing you both?"

"Nothing, Alexius," Dorian answered solemnly. "You've done nothing at all. Misfortune just happens." He considered putting a hand on the older man's shoulder, but decided against it. "Look...I see no reason in prolonging this travesty. I know it's hard, but Felix and Livia are not coming back. I wish I could tell you that turning back time would bring them back, but even so..."

"Felix would still die," the Magister finished, bitterly.

"Well, yes."

Alexius ran a hand over his face as he shook his head. "The past, the present, the future – they are all empty for me. It is, indeed, a great travesty."

Dorian felt a pang of pity for the man. "But who knows?" he interjected. "There might still be a chance. If something that could have been done differently were to be done in the past..."

Alexius' hand slid down over his mouth, eyes thoughtful. "I think of that every day," he murmured through his fingers.

"Then you will give us the amulet?"

"Oh, _Dorian_!" The Magister laughed. "How fortunate you are, that an amulet should be the extent of your troubles. I, on the other hand, have overstayed my welcome – it must come to an end, just like all the good that's happened in my life."

Dorian frowned. "What do you mean? Alexius, do–"

But a sleek shape thrummed past Dorian's vision and materialized a second later as an arrow through Alexius' forehead. The Magister swayed and then fell across Felix's chest in a macabre cross. Blood streaked from the arrow shaft past his open eyes and down his cheeks like dark, morbid tears. Dorian stared at him open-mouthed before shooting a questioning glance back at the spymaster who had loosed the arrow.

"He was reaching for a knife in his belt," Leliana explained, voice nonchalant. "It never would have killed him fast enough. Trust me."

The Tevinter mage looked from her to Alexius, and back again. "I suppose," he agreed, but felt little satisfaction in the statement.

* * *

The rift had been closed all right; it just hadn't been closed as easily as Dorian believed.

While he was confronting the Magister, Cassandra turned to Ahnnie after having helped her defeat one of the two new shades. "I can handle this myself. You must head for the rift – Varric and I will cover for you."

Ahnnie nodded. "Got it."

Assured by the Seeker's promise, the girl lost no time in making for the rift. She weaved as swiftly as she could between the yellow time circles, but admitted to jumping in a few green ones to speed her progress.

Just as she got close enough, a beam suddenly shot down from the rift. It blazed and crackled directly in front of her, blinding her momentarily. When it subsided, a familiar figure came into focus through the spots in her eyes – a bedraggled young man in tattered leathers, with a wide-brimmed hat on his head and shaggy blonde hair curtaining his eyes.

"Cole! What're you doing here?" Ahnnie demanded, shocked beyond comprehension. But now was not the time for surprises. "Never mind; now that you're here, go see what you can help with! I'll take care of the rift."

It only struck her, briefly, that he had appeared from the rift in much the same manner as a demon. And in her haste, she almost failed to notice the fact that his skin held the same red tint as Cassandra and Varric's. His once-sullen eyes regarded her strangely; one could even say they were staring at her coldly. "I am not here to help you. I serve the Elder One now."

"What?"

Faster than the blink of an eye, he slid out a dagger and knocked its pommel against her wrist, startling her into releasing the glaive. Then he swung the dagger at her. Hot, jarring pain sliced across her left shoulder to her right breast, the force of which threw her off her feet and sent her skidding on her back. A cry of pain rent from her mouth all the way down to her landing.

" _Fuck!_ " she cried again, torn between hugging her wound and the accursed stinging it made with every move. "Jesus _Christ_ –" She tried raising herself up by an elbow, faltered, and fell. "Why?" she ground out as Cole paced steadily towards her. "You helped me before...why are you doing this now?" Her question was choked to a gasp as a rough hand forced her up by the collar.

"Because I am bound," he answered. His dagger hand then moved forward to make the plunge.

By some miracle, Ahnnie managed to catch hold of his wrist mere inches away from her abdomen. It took both hands and all her might to keep it at bay, muscles protesting with the strain. Even so, she was slipping. There was only one way she could survive in such an event, but that way was traumatic and unthinkable; yet, it was the only thing she possibly had left to her. Tears welling in her eyes, she looked up at the heartless face of the spirit, demon, person, whatever it was that stood before her now – "Please...don't make me do this..."

He moved the dagger ever closer.

"You at least remember me?" she asked, desperate. "You helped me escape from Envy – remember?"

His hand hesitated a bit. She swore she could feel it! "I don't know what this Elder One wants you to do," she went on, "but please, Cole; remember that we weren't enemies. You tried to hel–"

The bite of cold metal tore through her stomach, straight in the middle. "I am not here to help you," the young man reiterated, as coldly as the blade of his dagger. "What once may have been is forever lost to me."

Ahnnie's words froze half-formed in her mouth with barely the strength for the smallest squeak. _Is this for real?_ She simply couldn't believe; it was happening so fast. Never had she expected to see Cole again, and in this scenario especially. Her neck craned upwards as laborious as an unoiled hinge, and tears of pain and grief fell freely from her eyes. Closing her lips together, she could do nothing more than purse them tightly. _I'm sorry._

She closed her eyes and tapped willingly, regretfully, into the familiar fire deep within her.

As soon as heat flooded into her palm, she ripped her sparking left hand from Cole's wrist and thrust it into his chest. He was solid, that much she could attest to. He could also feel pain, as his guttural cries showed her, echoing on and on in her spinning head. Ahnnie only shut her eyes tighter, refusing to witness the torment she was forcing upon another living being, however supernatural. She screamed a moment later as the dagger rudely exited her, a pain that was exacerbated as she fell forward along with Cole.

One hand on his chest, the other gripping her wound, her eyes fluttered open to find him quietly dying. The wild flares of her mark continued to dance and crackle, but the young man beneath her showed no outward sign of pain beyond the strain in his eyes. His bloodied dagger had fallen off to the side, gleaming eerily in the green light.

"I'm sorry," she panted. "I can't...take it off..."

Cole's lips moved as if to form words, but none could be heard. Then his eyes clouded over, blue-grey dulling to dead stone, and his lids slowly closed, stopping halfway. Unlike what she expected, his body became less and less substantial until it faded into nothing, and her left hand sank crackling-hot onto the stone floor. It was as though he had never been there in the first place. She blinked dazedly at the spot before chancing a look up to see his dagger still on the floor.

 _Whoever, or whatever you are – were...I wish it had ended differently._

"Ahnnie, the rift!" Cassandra's voice reminded her.

The girl's head shot up at that and she struggled to her feet. Pain lanced through her anew and made her tighten the grip over her stomach, but with an agonizing push, she stood a little straighter and raised her left hand. The mark still sputtered hungrily, having been robbed of a focal point, and the beam practically tore itself from her palm. Gritting her teeth, she did her best to bull through the screams of her aching muscles.

When the rift eventually burst into nothing, she heaved a sigh of relief and wilted to the ground. Nausea rose in accordance with the mounting dizziness and darkness swam at the edges of her vision. Determined to weather it out despite the odds, she sucked in a slow breath and willed herself to not think of her wounds.

"Here, let me help."

Ahnnie looked up to find Cassandra's hand extended towards her and accepted it gratefully. The Seeker pulled her up, firm but gentle, and handed her the fallen glaive. The girl held it in her free hand for support and felt Cassandra's arm envelope her other shoulder for good measure. "Thanks," she whispered.

Cassandra nodded in acknowledgement and led her away.

* * *

Dorian knelt by the two corpses, face somber and distant. His eyes latched onto the dead Magister in particular. _He wanted to die, didn't he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications...he lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice. Oh, Alexius! Once you were a man to whom I compared all others. Sad, isn't it?_

With a sigh, the Tevinter mage pushed those thoughts away and dug into his former mentor's pockets. It was strange, going from revering the man to fighting him and now, looting his corpse. He half expected Alexius to suddenly awaken and reprimand him, but alas – what is dead usually stays dead. He pulled out the cubic amulet a moment later and straightened up with it in hand.

"This is the same amulet he used before," he told Leliana. "I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous. That's a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift."

"An hour?" Leliana asked incredulously. "That's impossible! You must go now!"

"Indeed," Cassandra agreed from across the room, her voice booming behind them. "She may not have much time left."

"Who?" Dorian inquired, and whirled around to see the bleeding girl lying on the steps of the dais. "Maker's breath!"

Ahnnie looked over at him and forced a weak smile, too tired to make a response of adequate volume.

"No...no, no, no, no, _no..._ " He immediately rushed over to her with Leliana on his tail. Once there, he took her hand away from her stomach, his own already curling at the sight of the blood. "Blast it all! This is going to be a beast to heal..." Even so, he brought out his staff. He frowned as he chanted a few words, and the staff glowed white, but faded and died away a moment later. "Damn it. Damn it all! I can't think of any healing spells for something this deep...and that's not counting her chest..."

He could tell by the smile in Ahnnie's eyes that she felt bad for him. "I kind of felt it heal a little," she put in sympathetically, to little effect.

A muffled boom interrupted them, echoing from beyond the throne room's walls. The world suddenly shook and trembled, sending down a shower of dust and stones from the ceiling. Leliana looked up at the vibrating walls and grimaced at Dorian. "The Elder One."

Cassandra and Varric had their gazes glued upwards as well, bringing them back down to exchange knowing glances when the quake subsided. A subtle understanding seemed to pass between them, as Cassandra showed with a light nod to the dwarf.

"We'll hold the main door," Varric then offered. "Once they break through, it's all you, Nightingale."

Ahnnie gaped at him with a horrified expression. "No..."

"Hey, we'll be all right," he assured her with a smile. "Whatever happens to us now will be reversed the moment you go back in time. Piece of cake."

 _Easier said than done,_ Dorian thought ruefully, the weight of the amulet in his hand more pressing now than ever.

Leliana turned down the hall, as did Cassandra and Varric. "You have as much time as I have arrows," the spymaster said, and both Dorian and Ahnnie watched their backs as they made for the throne room doors. The doors were more easily accessible from inside than out, giving way beneath a simple pull. Cassandra and Varric slipped beyond them while Leliana stayed behind to hold a firm position twenty feet away. The last thing to be heard was the thud of the doors closing automatically and their creaking mechanisms locking back into place.

The Tevinter mage tore his gaze away from there and back to the girl who people called Herald of Andraste. In Tevinter, she was known as the Survivor. _Maker, she's growing whiter by the minute. I only hope whatever stabbed her hit nothing important._ This distinction, he knew, made the difference between an extra few minutes to hours of life. "Bear with me here," he pleaded. "I'll work this out as fast as I can. In the meantime...try not to sleep, will you?"

Ahnnie nodded. "I'll try," she whispered, but her movements were already growing sluggish.

With that insurance, however weak, Dorian set to work. He brought out the amulet and channeled his mana into it, guided by the chants in Tevene he had memorized so long ago as part of the formula. The amulet floated before him, enveloped in a green-blue glow. Having activated it, he now shifted his focus on reversing the spell that had brought them here. Like a thief picking a lock, he navigated through the intricate workings of the spell, trying to the best of his ability to find that one combination that would click things into place. Occupied thus, time was nonexistent to him.

"It's getting cold," Ahnnie suddenly rasped.

"Shh, I know," Dorian murmured. Fresh sweat beaded on his brow. _Come on. You're getting closer. That's it..._

Another period of silence ensued. He looked at her from the corner of his eye whenever he remembered to, but always regretted doing so. The color was leaving her lips and she was mumbling incoherent things. Shaking his head, he threw himself back into the matter of his spell. _Almost..._

A muffled thrumming pulsed beyond the throne room, followed by a loud bash against the doors. The sound made Dorian jolt, but still he continued to work. He was just so _close._

Leliana's voice suddenly echoed against the vaulted ceiling. "Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame," she prayed as she notched an arrow and raised her bow.

The doors pulsed again, and on the third try, they burst open. The bodies of Cassandra and Varric were roughly thrown aside as a group of Venatori and demons entered the hall. Leliana loosed her arrow upon the slightest sign of entry, followed by an entire volley, toiling nonstop to hold them back.

"Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side."

Dorian furrowed his brows together as he tried to shut away the noise. Just one more component, and he would have it.

The spymaster let out a scream of pain as something struck her, yet from what Dorian could hear she still fought valiantly. The Andrastian prayers were replaced by grunts and screams of effort, indicative of a rough struggle the sight of which he refused to witness.

His eyes were transfixed instead on the floating amulet. It was starting to glow with a brighter intensity. A dark green shimmer passed through the air around it, punctuated by streaks of light like miniature lightning bolts. Heart pounding, Dorian stepped back with a look of pure joy on his face. "Finally, I've done it!" he cried triumphantly.

Without much of a thought to sensitivity, he hefted the limp Ahnnie to her feet, stuffed the glaive into her arms, and shoved her into the swirling emerald rift that flashed open a split second later. And without so much as a single look back, he jumped in after her.

* * *

Ahnnie gasped as she fell through flashing lights once more. Beyond the subsequent tunnel of darkness was the bright crackle of firelight, and she emerged into it gasping like a fish out of water. So uncoordinated was she that she stumbled straight into the chest of Magister Gereon Alexius himself. A strong hand from the side, however, pulled her away.

She screamed, half expecting a fresh eruption of pain across her chest and stomach. But none came. Blinking confusedly, she felt herself over. "My wounds!" she cried. "They're gone!"

"You were wounded?" Cassandra's confused voice demanded, and Ahnnie whirled around to find the Seeker just as she remembered her, dressed in armor with short choppy hair and no red glows on her face.

"You all right, kiddo?" Varric asked next. His voice was not more hoarse than necessary and he, too, was devoid of the red lyrium's taint.

"Cassandra! Varric!" Ahnnie spread her arms wide and crushed them both into a hug. She felt so happy she could cry. "I'm alive, and you guys are okay!"

Cassandra's mouth opened and closed in utter bewilderment. "Wh-what are you doing?" she spluttered, uncomfortably aware of the rogue dwarf's shoulder jammed against her arm in the embrace. The Inquisition agents in the room as well as Grand Enchanter Fiona stared curiously at the spectacle, adding more to the Seeker's consternation.

Solas stepped forward to tap the overjoyed girl on the shoulder. "Ahnnie? Whatever may have happened, I think now's not the time fo–"

" _Solas_!" She tore away from the other two and latched onto him with the same ferocity. The elf jolted in surprise, almost losing hold of his staff, and stayed frozen in place for several moments before recovering enough to squeeze his arms free for a gentle, albeit puzzled, reciprocation.

The Inquisition soldier in the envoy tentatively approached, a concerned look aimed the Herald of Andraste's way. Just as he was reaching for her, Varric stopped him with a light chuckle. "Careful, or you might get smothered by a spontaneous hug," the dwarf joked. The soldier paused, chuckled back, and stepped away as Ahnnie extricated herself anyway.

Dorian had exited the rift not too long after her, the magic of which was fading away by the second. He watched the wholesome scene unfold with a light smile beneath his mustache before turning around to face the astonished gawk of his former mentor. "You'll have to do better than that," was his best retort – after that harrowing experience, he had not the creative juices to make any sort of witty comeback. He felt empty, almost bland.

The Magister's previous tough exterior then cracked before his very eyes. With a disheartened slump, Alexius slid to his knees, eyes downcast. "You've won," he croaked. "There is no point in extending this charade." Raising his head, he cast his sad gaze over to his son. "Felix..."

The young man came over to his father and knelt before him. "It's going to be all right, Father," Felix assured him.

Alexius shook his head. "You'll die."

"Everyone dies," Felix murmured.

The Magister's eyes narrowed in pain. With a trembling hand, he raised it to Felix's face and gave the young man a gentle stroke on the cheek. Two Inquisition agents approached in that moment and stopped directly behind him. Resolutely, Alexius heaved himself to his feet, and the agents at first tensed, expecting retaliation – when he turned around, his hands held before him and his expression morose, they relaxed again and took him away. Felix accompanied the procession out the audience hall like an obedient puppy.

Dorian sighed and turned back to the happy Survivor chattering away with her companions. From her heated voice, he guessed she was recounting the details of their time traveling adventure. A smile tickling the corner of his mouth, he strode over to them and thumped a hand on her shoulder. "Well," he huffed, "I'm glad that's over with!"

Ahnnie whirled around in surprise and gave Dorian a grin. "You said it. We didn't turn into paste, which is even better! Come on, I'll tell you the rest outside," she said to the others. "I don't want to stay in this castle another minute."

"Neither do I," Dorian agreed with a long stretch of his arms, and noted, appreciatively, the absence of the bullet graze on his shoulder.

* * *

Ahnnie's story would have been dismissed as nothing more than pure fancy had not Dorian chimed in with the same details. It took a few hours to explain everything, yet even after it was done, there was the sense that it had not been taken a hundred percent seriously. Easy enough for those who never experienced it; all they saw was the portal, the disappearance, some angered yelling, and then the pair's reappearance less than a minute later. The implications of a chaotic future under the Elder One, however, was not lost on any of their questioners.

Only one thing was purposefully left out, and that was the part where Ahnnie acquired her wounds. Dorian swore up and down that they had caused her major blood loss, and when asked what caused them, the girl was quick to shift the blame on a demon. Perhaps in a way, she wasn't wrong. However, like before, the mystery of Cole eluded her. Dorian hadn't seen him either, so who would believe her if she told them a shaggy young man no one ever laid eyes on was the culprit?

And maybe, somehow, she hoped that in having prevented such a future in the first place, Cole – whoever and wherever he was – would not become corrupted. In that case, she saw no harm in failing to mention him. At least now she knew he wasn't a figment of her imagination.

That having been established, it was now time to renew the possibility of alliance with the rebel mages, this time negotiating with their true leader, Grand Enchanter Fiona. After giving Ahnnie two days off to recuperate her senses at the Crossroads, the Inquisition went back to Redcliffe village. The way was refreshingly smooth and free of strange rifts.

Yet before their party could be accommodated at the Gull and Lantern, another procession cut through the village with liveried soldiers and loud fanfare. At its head was a regally dressed couple, sitting astride two magnificent steeds of impeccable breeding. They reined in their mounts at the village square and swept their gazes across the people assembled there.

"Grand Enchanter Fiona," the man spoke out, his voice booming authoritatively, "we'd like to discuss your abuse of our hospitality."

Ahnnie looked from the couple to Fiona, a puzzled look on her face. "What's going on? Who are they?" she whispered to Cassandra.

The Seeker's face was grim. "They are King Alistair and Queen Anora of Ferelden. I suspect they are here on behalf of the arl."

 _Whoa...royalty? They don't look so happy._ Ahnnie then watched as Fiona came forward with her head held low. If ever she was a little woman, she seemed even smaller now. "Your Majesties," she humbly addressed.

"When we offered the mages sanctuary, we did not give them the right to drive our people from their homes," the woman, Queen Anora, reproached harshly.

Fiona cupped her hands together in a pleading gesture. "King Alistair, Queen Anora, I assure you, we never intended–"

"In light of your actions, good intentions are no longer enough," Queen Anora interrupted, eyes narrowing at the Grand Enchanter.

"You and your followers have worn out your welcome," King Alistair continued. "Leave Ferelden, or we'll be forced to make you leave."

Fiona's mouth dropped wide open. "Leave Ferelden! But...we have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?" Behind her, a surrsurrus of worried murmurs swept through the mages present like wildfire, as if to amplify her concerns. Outside of Ferelden, they would be hard pressed to find anyone willing to accommodate apostates. It was difficult enough even within borders. With this banishment, they were all doomed.

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip, looking from the royal couple to the Grand Enchanter. "Well," she piped up slowly, a suggestive lilt in her tone, "the Inquisition _did_ come here for mage help to seal the Breach..."

Fiona turned to her, half hopeful, half fearful. "And what are the terms of the arrangement?" she asked uncertainly. The negotiations, it seemed, would take place here in the square rather than the Gull and Lantern.

"Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you," a lighthearted voice said from the crowd. "The Inquisition _is_ better than that, yes?"

"Of course it is, Dorian," Ahnnie answered, loud enough for everyone to hear. She looked back into the press of people and spotted his mustached face beaming back at her.

"I would conscript them," Cassandra decided. "They've proven what they'll do, given too much freedom." She aimed a sharp glance towards the Enchanter, still not over the fact that she had allied with Tevinter.

Varric's brows furrowed in concern. "Now, look," he interjected, "I've known a lot of mages. They can be loyal friends if you let them. Friends who make bad decisions, but still. Loyal."

Ahnnie frowned, having not expected such stark opinions at once. Feeling lost, she found herself instinctively looking towards Solas, who gave her an encouraging smile. "Do what you think feels right, da'len," he murmured to her. "You are not bound by any of us to follow our decisions. And, you know, you can be more than just a figurehead for the Inquisition. Why don't you give it a try?"

She glanced nervously at Cassandra. "I..."

"You'll never know until you try."

"Some bad decisions lead to irreparable consequences," Cassandra was saying to Varric when Ahnnie returned her attention to the matter at hand. "After she hears of what the Herald and Tevinter mage went through in that rift, I am sure Leliana would also agree with my decision. As for Commander Cullen, he had cast his ballot for the Templars from the beginning."

Fiona could see the direction in which the negotiations were going quite plainly. "Very well, then," she said, taking it with as much dignity as possible. "As things stand, we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer."

"W-wait!" Ahnnie called out; and then blushed when she realized she didn't have to yell. "Um, I disagree with conscription."

"You would openly interrupt your leader?" Queen Anora suddenly asked.

Ahnnie felt her heart skip a beat. _Oh my god. A queen_ _just talked to me. A freaking_ queen! _Don't screw this up, don't screw this up..._ "W-well," she began, "I don't mean to be rude...but, if anything, I would like her to reconsider." She chanced a tiny glance at Cassandra from the corner of her eye, and then looked over at the Grand Enchanter. "Bad decisions are bad decisions...but the Enchanter did what she did out of fear. Fear for the safety of the mages, who counted, and still do count, on her as leader. God; er, Maker knows, many would have done the same in her position.

"As far as I know, the disaster has been averted – the Magister arrested, the Venatori purged. Plus, no one would have willingly gone with Tevinter if Magister Alexius didn't manipulate things the way he did. Grand Enchanter Fiona and the rest of the mages deserve another chance as allies." _Just as I got another chance,_ she silently added, suddenly relating to Fiona more than she had when they first arrived in Redcliffe. The image of the Enchanter locked in crystals of red lyrium flashed through her mind again, along with the sound of her pitiful groans. _I'm so sorry I was ever upset with you. I, of all people, should've known what you were going through._

Ahnnie half expected a period of awkward silence to follow her sudden outburst. Instead, Cassandra said not too long after the last word, "We will discuss this later." Her tone was not as disapproving as Ahnnie had expected, either.

"Baby steps, da'len," Solas whispered into her ear when, at last, the spotlight was given back to the Seeker and the royals. "Just one step at a time, until it becomes a natural pace. You did well today."

"Did I really?" Ahnnie whispered back.

Dorian broke in between them before Solas could make his reply. "And what conspiracy are you both cooking up, hm? I thought we were past the need for secrecy by now."

Ahnnie opened her mouth, closed it, and laughed. "Maybe I'll tell you later," she promised with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

* * *

The Inquisition departed from Redcliffe early the next day. In their company followed the hundreds of mages whom Fiona had worried about providing protection for. The village of Redcliffe watched their backs as they left, whispering rumors and stirring speculations on the mages' pending status with the Inquisition. Either way, they could all rest a little easier now; their arl would soon be coming back to them from Denerim.

Ten days later, the Inquisition arrived at Haven. An uproar of surprise ensued when the larger than life convoy arrived at the gates. No one had expected _all_ the rebel mages to come at once...except maybe for a certain spymaster, who had been properly alerted by raven many days prior.

Whatever the differing opinions of the citizens and allies at Haven, the Inquisition could now get down to work. Their efforts lay focused on a distant point of the sky, where the clouds swirled stormily and the air glowed green.

They were now ready to take on the Breach.


	28. Book III: Exodus

The ambience of the war room was ageless and cunning, a testing ground of ideas and strategies and plans. Though it had only been in use for as long as the new Inquisition, already it felt like a place where history had made its mark. And ever since Ahnnie's latest absence, it now seemed to burn with an even greater purpose – she could feel it as the mounting tension in the air, in the very thrum of her veins and the passionate voices around her.

"It's not a matter for debate," Commander Cullen said with finality. "There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared!"

"If we rescind the nature of the alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worse," Lady Josephine reminded him, crisply.

Madame Vivienne's smooth and chocolatey voice countered the ambassador primly, a hint of resentment in every syllable. "But since Fiona and her malcontents are joining us as allies rather than conscripts, regrettable as that is, precautions have become necessary. Abominations are inevitable."

Ahnnie knew this conversation was coming, one way or another. The nature of the mages' inclusion had still been unknown while on the way back to Haven; it was only several days before coming close to the little mountain village that she and Cassandra came to an accord. Surprisingly enough, the Seeker acquiesced to the girl's wishes. It did not happen immediately, but Ahnnie's supplications, delivered to the best of her ability, eventually won over. It was an accomplishment the likes of which Ahnnie never thought could happen with someone as stoic as Cassandra, but now she knew the woman wasn't as emotionally immovable as she seemed. The result became public knowledge moments after arriving at Haven's gates and prompted the war room meeting they now attended.

"What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight?" Cullen snapped at the girl. "Might I remind you, the _Veil_ is torn open!"

Ahnnie met his disapproval with as level a gaze as she could muster. "I understand what you're saying," she said, "but we need their help to close the Breach. It would be better if they were treated as equals rather than criminals."

The Commander shook his head. "I _know_ we need them for the Breach, but they could do as much damage as the demons themselves!" To Cassandra, he reproached, "You were there, Seeker! Why didn't you intervene?"

"While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it," Cassandra replied evenly. "The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid, and that was accomplished."

Suddenly, the door burst open and the attendees were graced with a flamboyant exclamation: "The voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments."

Everyone turned around to find a dark haired, olive skinned mage standing in the doorway, an artful grin displayed beneath his well-groomed mustache. Beside him an Inquisition soldier made her flustered way into the room to address the meeting.

"Dorian Pavus, sers," the soldier announced belatedly, before withdrawing altogether and closing the door behind her.

A puzzled silence enveloped the air, to be broken by Madame Vivienne a few seconds later. "Magic is dangerous, just as fire is dangerous," she warned with a suspicious eye trained on Dorian. "Anyone who forgets this truth gets burned."

"Closing the Breach is all that matters," Cassandra reiterated.

"Besides, we have templars here," Ahnnie added with optimism. "They can still help. We should bring them together and head down to the Breach as soon as possible."

Lady Josephine's bronzed skin flashed in the candlelight as she gave her nod of assent. "Agreed."

"There are not enough templars to handle incidents," Vivienne interposed. "Some of the rank and file need to be trained."

"They will have to make do," Cassandra said. "Training would only take up more time than we have the luxury to spare, a problem for us even with conscripts."

The spymaster, previously silent, expressed her contemplation in a grave voice at both Ahnnie and Dorian in turn: "We should also look into the things you saw in this 'dark future'. The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army? Otherworldly technology?" In addition to being forewarned of the rebel mages' arrival, Leliana had also been thoroughly informed of the pair's account. Unlike others, who were mostly concerned with the Elder One, she took the aforementioned details very seriously.

"Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do," Dorian remarked, hilariously sarcastic to the point of glee. "Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!"

Cullen sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "One battle at a time," he pleaded. "It's going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. And I know there's not much of it to be spared for extra training, but a contingency plan should be put into place – you can't deny the possibility of abominations, regardless of how you view the mages."

"Indeed," Vivienne affirmed, "the Commander speaks wisely. You'd do well to listen to him, my dear."

Her condescending tone stung. "Of course," Ahnnie nodded, understanding of the logic presented before her; what she was not so comfortable with was the offhanded way with which the mages were mentioned, as though they were unstable and clueless children. But there was no point in stirring up dissent now over that one opinion.

If such views bothered Dorian at all, the Tevinter mage did not show it. "My services are available for this endeavor, should you choose to accept them," he offered. "I would like to see this Breach up close."

Ahnnie blinked in surprise. "Then you're staying?" He had traveled back with them to give testimony on Alexius, but she assumed he would eventually return to Tevinter like Felix had done.

His perfect brows went up in astonishment. "Oh, didn't I mention it? The South is _so_ charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces."

Ironically put or not, his words brought a smile to her face. "There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with, future or present," said Ahnnie, delightedly.

"Excellent choice!" Dorian laughed. "But let's not get 'stranded' anytime again soon, yes?"

Cassandra let them have their moment, listening to their exchange with the subtlest hint of a smirk. "I am glad it delights the both of you so," she said once they were done. "Your services will be welcome, Dorian Pavus, so long as you show no sign of betraying the Inquisition to Tevinter. Do not think we are lax with you now just because you saved the Herald."

Dorian nodded, serious this time. "You have my word, Lady Cassandra."

"Well, then." Cullen rolled his great shoulders as he bent down to examine the map, hands planted squarely at its edges. "I'll begin preparations to march on the summit. Give me three days at the least, a week at most. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory."

Madame Vivienne shifted closer to the long table with her arms crossed. "Let us hope for the best," she said, though not quite happily.

"A new path was cleared through the pass towards the northeast," Leliana mentioned. "It'll save us a considerable amount of time and eliminate the need for detouring around that troublesome west bend..."

* * *

The rebel mages were put to work as soon as they were able.

Almost immediately after the meeting, those who were healthy enough were organized and split into different ranks. And as soon as the day after, they were practicing drills with the mages already at Haven under the watchful eyes of Enchanter Fiona and Madame Vivienne. It would have been difficult to miss them, training out on an open field outside Haven. Ahnnie had gone there after a sweat-inducing workout with Corporal Hargrave just to see what a magic army would look like.

Dressed in plain yet smartly fitting leather armor, the mages seemed no different from the Inquisition soldiers except for their staves. The drills were a combination of target practice, mana strengthening, and (of course) mental exercises on how to keep one's mind guarded against demonic temptation, courtesy of Madame Vivienne. To Ahnnie, however, the exercises seemed mostly a repeated lecture on the dangers of magic and corruptibility of mages.

All in all, things seemed to go well. Fiona and Vivienne hadn't been at each other's throats, which was what she thought at first might happen. They were actually being quite civil with one another, even if coldly. She returned to Haven after growing bored watching the largely uneventful mental exercises and let out a sigh of satisfaction as the crisp Frostback wind cooled her forehead. In a wistful mood, _Winter Wonderland_ started playing in her head.

Humming through the chorus, Ahnnie strolled for the Singing Maiden to see how Netta and the pups were getting along. _They should be ten or eleven weeks by now? They'll have been weaned since I was last here. Has Charley's ear pointed up yet?_ But alas, the answers to those questions were to be postponed as Flissa, regrettably, informed her of the little girl's fever.

"She's to stay in bed on Adan's orders, for at least another day or two," the innkeeper said. "The dogs in the meantime are staying with Nala, if you want to go see them. Oh, there's been two letters for you from Ostwick as well. They came before you left for the Storm Coast, but I couldn't get them to you in time. Would you like them now?"

"Yes, please." She waited patiently while Flissa went round the back to retrieve them, and took up the folded parchments with a smile. "Thanks again, Flissa. I promise to repay you when I can. You deserve it for all the hard work you do."

"Goodness. You're always saying that. Never you mind about paying me anything," Flissa scolded. "I don't do what I do expecting a reward for every little action. No more about this from you, you hear?"

Ahnnie could promise nothing in that regard, but played along anyway. She bid the innkeeper farewell and sent her best wishes to Netta before exiting the tavern and resuming from _later on, we'll conspire; as we dream, by the fire..._

Visiting the puppies was next on her list of things to do, but the skittish healer's assistant was unavailable. Oh well. She still had plenty of time, and the letters in her hand were growing more tempting by the minute. Sweeping off some snow from a low stone wall, Ahnnie plopped her bottom down and broke open the seal to the earliest marked letter.

 _Dear Ahnnie,_

 _I've heard of what happened with the Templars in Val Royeaux...I don't know what to say. I'm in awe, and...well, my family is not very happy, as you may know. It was bad enough hearing that the Templars deserted the Chantry. To find that they've allowed a demon to pose as Lord Seeker is just..._

 _Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself. It must have been horrific, what you had to experience – I wish I had been there. It frustrates me to no end, knowing you're out there risking your life while I'm just here in Ostwick, biding my time!_

 _I hope we can meet again soon. The Inquisition presence at the Grand Cathedral is very encouraging. Father speaks less ill of you than he used to. Opinions are changing, slowly but surely._

 _Best Wishes,_

 _Eliana_

Ahnnie felt a surge of excitement upon reading the last paragraph. _If we do well enough, Evelyn can actually come!_ She folded the first letter away before picking up the second, wondering what its contents would entail?

Judging by the postdate, it was written a day after the first one. Puzzled, Ahnnie unfolded it to find that it was a list of titles. Then she realized they were the titles of books authored by Varric. At the end of the list was a postscript:

 _I forgot to include this for you in my previous letter, when clearly you had requested it in your last reply! What a nitwit I am! Please forgive me._

 _Also, since you mentioned it, I picked up a copy of_ Swords and Shields _. It's not bad at all. A little cheesy, but...well now I'm hooked. You should definitely give it a try and see if you can't get the author to sign it for you._

Ahnnie smiled and folded the paper back into place, tucking both letters neatly into the confines of her close-fitting coat. _If I write a letter now, I can expect it to ship out sometime tomorrow or after tomorrow..._ she wasn't sure if Ostwick had heard of the latest events in Redcliffe yet, so she supposed it could be the subject of her reply. But then by the time Evelyn received it, the news might already be the talk of the Free Marches. _Oh well. At least she'll get to read my version of it. Speaking of which, I wonder if I can ask her about Cole...?_

By god. Why on earth had she never thought of that before? The Trevelyan was a spirit mage, for Christ's sake. Who better to ask about Cole outside of the companions than her?

Jumping to her feet, Ahnnie dashed down the path towards her cabin. It was going to be a long letter she would be sending to Ostwick.

* * *

Time eventually caught up to her, between the harried lessons with Hargrave, visits to Netta, checking in on the mages, and playtime with the puppies, when an Inquisition soldier informed her of the impending march to the Breach not more than two days away. The word came five days after the meeting, fitting snugly within the time frame Commander Cullen had promised. It was an announcement made loud and clear to all those who resided in Haven and stirred such a wave of optimism that the townspeople held a feast in the Singing Maiden that same night.

Pooped out from another long day, Ahnnie declined to attend the feast, choosing instead to have a quiet dinner in her cabin. _All that we went through, in the Hinterlands and Val Royeaux and the Storm Coast and Redcliffe, to come to this moment..._ it was an unimaginable yet awe-inspiring thought. And it was a wonder to her that anyone could cheer through the night in the face of such a daunting task. Then again, she was the only one who held the key to stopping the Breach; she might as well be the only one who felt this way.

 _And say I do seal the Breach successfully...what comes next?_

A knock at the door broke that chain of thought as suddenly as a hammer fall. _Who could it be?_ Ahnnie wondered instead, and got up to open the door with a puzzled frown.

"Oh! Solas!" she exclaimed with a jolt.

The elven mage smiled. "You were not expecting me," he guessed. "I apologize. But you were absent at the tavern..."

 _So that's where you were tonight?_ It was hard for her to imagine the bald elf in the Singing Maiden, eating and drinking amongst the local populace...but then they must have accepted him by now, just as they came to accept the rebel mages. "Please, come in," she invited. "You don't have to take off your shoes," she added when he spotted the boots by the doorway. "It's just me, really."

"Thank you," he said a moment later. "I'll just be sitting by the fire for a bit. No need, I'm not hungry," he declined when she made to offer him a bowl of stew. There being only one chair, which she was currently using, Solas settled instead on the edge of her bed. "So," he began. "Are you ready?"

"For what?" Though she knew what it was about before he even spoke.

"For the Breach. In the next two days, it will be sealed once and for all. Can you imagine it?"

Ahnnie slowly lowered herself into her chair with an equally slow shake of her head. "No, it's...it's always been something that was so...far away. 'We need to seal the Breach; it must be dealt with ASAP; the longer it stays, the more danger we're in' – that's what I kept hearing, and I believe in it too, but...now that it comes down to it..."

"Are you afraid?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

Solas' eyes sparkled thoughtfully as he gazed into hers, as if in search for a hidden truth she was trying to conceal. "You hold a lot inside you, da'len," he said at last, "more than I think is good for you. You'll ask about others, immerse yourself in their experiences, but when it comes to divulging your own you are worse than the stingiest miser."

"I-I...what?" she stuttered, unable to discern whether he was insulting her or trying to help her.

"Except for our first serious talk about Thedas, it has always taken outside initiation to get you to open up on your thoughts. After Envy and what recently happened in Redcliffe, you still haven't expressed yourself to anyone, where naturally a few confidences here and there would have occurred." He gave her a pointed look. "There is more that you are not saying, and I can tell. Many of the others too, for that matter."

Her mouth worked like a broken hinge in finding a reply, until at last she shook her head. "I think you're mistaken. I didn't come to the tavern because I was tired, not because..."

"But one can still think and feel, even when tired." He looked at her beseechingly. "Do you trust in me so little? If there are any questions you have, or any concerns, it would be best to get them off your chest before you head to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They may not be gone completely, but you will feel much better."

In the face of such a heartfelt plea, she felt guilty. "Well..." She idly poked the meat in her stew with her chopsticks. "I guess I do have a question..."

"Go on."

"After the Breach is stopped..." Ahnnie frowned. "What, exactly, happens next?"

"The Inquisition will try to broker peace between the templars and mages, of course," Solas answered. "And if possible, discover who this enigmatic Elder One is."

"Okay, but where do I fit into all of that? Once the Breach is gone, and there's no more need to use my mark...will I just be..." She gulped. "...cast aside?"

Solas stared at her awhile in shock before breaking into choppy laughter. "Oh – oh no, da'len, you're – well, you're not wrong in feeling concerned," he assured her, "but that is – no, the Inquisition would never dream of it. They're more honorable than that, and the people would never let them be if they were to suddenly cast the Herald of Andraste aside. When, if ever, your mark finds itself unemployed, I think you'll find a decent if not comfortable existence awaiting you here."

She raised a questioning eyebrow. "If ever?"

"Sealing the Breach does not mean the rifts throughout Thedas will suddenly disappear," he pointed out. "New ones will stop appearing, but the current ones will continue to exist until you close them. There's no telling how many rifts have been opened, so your mark will be in use for some time, I'm sure."

 _I see_ , she thought, staring dazedly into the fire. _So I'll still have more work to do._

Mistaking her contemplative silence for confusion, Solas launched into a more thorough explanation: "The Breach is a hole in the Veil that acts as a conduit for opening rifts. When you seal the Breach, you bring the Veil back into balance and seal away the Fade from the waking world for good. Thus, no more new rifts."

She was about to tell him that she understood the first time around, until the weight of what he said dawned upon her. "Wait, so...there'll be no way to enter the Fade physically?"

"No. There has never been a way until you came. Why do you..." He paused, his face blanching. "Oh. Oh dear...in all of the excitement, I had forgotten about...I didn't think you wanted..."

She held up a hand to stop him. "It's okay," she said. "I didn't even think about it until now."

He looked at her helplessly, then down at the stone floor. For the first time ever, she saw him wring his hands. "I am so sorry, da'len. I wish I could tell you it is possible, but once the Breach is sealed, it is not an easy feat to tear another hole in the Veil. Even then the chances of surviving physically in the Fade are very rare; and the chances of finding an exit to another world, even rarer; it was a miracle you were able to find your way here in the first place."

Ahnnie swallowed. "I know," was her strained answer.

A weighty silence fell between them, and for a while the only sound anyone registered was the crackling of the fire. _Should've seen it coming,_ she sighed. Even so, she had been aware of this deep down. She just wouldn't give voice to it; she refused to. Yet every time she spoke or thought of going home, she knew it to be an empty promise, something to say to make her sound driven, an incentive with no backing. To have it confirmed now in technical terms was not so very strange, just...depressing.

Suddenly Solas began to rise, snapping Ahnnie out of her reverie. "You should rest," he said to her, a pitying smile softening his features. "You will be busy tomorrow."

She bit down on her lower lip as a pang of sharp yet sweet emotions stung her. Sticking her chopsticks into the cube of meat she had been toying with, Ahnnie rose to close the gap between them. "Hahren," she began with a hand on his arm, for he was too tall for her to reach his shoulder, "please don't feel bad about this. It's not your fault. What matters is that I deal with the Breach first; after that, I can worry about finding a way home." She smiled encouragingly at him. "You promised to help me with my magic, remember? Maybe we'll find something then."

But the expression on his face seemed a mix of pain and confusion. If she had to choose an adjective to describe it, she would say 'wounded' – perhaps even 'guilty'. Ahnnie wondered why that would be and searched the familiar corners and curves of his visage for the answers, though she knew not what she expected to find. "Perhaps," he let out at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "Good night, da'len." Then, unexpectedly, he bent his head forward to plant a light kiss against her forehead.

Ahnnie was still baffled at his reaction hours after his departure. She spent the last few minutes before sleep overtook her pondering the reasons for his sadness other than a strong sense of empathy. _Because i_ _f I'm not mistaken,_ she thought with a frown, _he seemed even more devastated than me._

* * *

Two days is not an awfully long time to wait. Not when one's schedule is kept tight, and especially not when one counts the days upon rising from bed. _The day after tomorrow_ quickly becomes _tomorrow,_ which in turn becomes _today._

That fateful morning, Seeker Cassandra found Ahnnie awake, armed, and dressed, but engrossed in reminiscence over her journal, pajamas, and orthopaedic shoe. The girl was not surprised to find Cassandra at the door, however, and put nostalgia aside the moment the woman entered and announced herself. She left the cabin with her possessions spread out on her bed so that she might enjoy them later.

All of Haven were witness to the Herald's arrival at the Chantry, where a few certain things were to be performed before marching to the Temple. First was the donning of a dark leather armor on her person, imprinted with the symbol of the Inquisition in gray thread as a finishing touch by the local tanner. Next was a series of prayers and blessings performed by the Chantry sisters, headed by Mother Giselle.

"Maker be with you," the gentle Mother finished, touching Ahnnie's forehead with cool and fragrant fingers – right where Solas had kissed her, coincidentally enough – before going on to give the rest of her company the same holy gestures.

"Don't need none of that, thanks," Sera swerved away as Mother Giselle came close, making a face and quite effectively ruining the moment.

When the formalities were finished, they exited to find the bulk of their force headed by Commander Cullen on one side and Enchanter Fiona on the other standing ready and grave in the falling snow. With a single nod from Seeker Cassandra, the soldiers and mages shaped themselves into formation and began to march for Haven's gates.

"Wait!" The little voice pierced the air as suddenly as thunder.

Ahnnie whirled around. "Netta!" she cried, and intercepted the child before she lost herself amongst the taller legs. "What are you doing here? You just got better–"

Netta thrust a spiny pinecone into her face, cupped gently in her hands as though it were a delicate treasure. "The flowers haven't come yet, so this was the only thing I could find. But look! Isn't it the most perfect one you ever saw?"

Ahnnie laughed. "Yes, it is. Thank you," and she took the pinecone into her own hands. "Now go back inside! Your mama won't be happy if you got sick again."

Even after Haven had disappeared from view, the sweet little gesture felt as fresh as though it had occurred mere seconds ago. Ahnnie clasped the gift close in both hands and looked down upon it occasionally with a smile on her face.

"And with the great pinecone in hand, a mighty sword in the other, the Herald of Andraste did smite the Breach from the sky," Varric recited as though reading from an epic. "How much are you willing to bet that's going into some biography of yours?"

Ahnnie gave him an amused sidelong glance. "I don't know. I don't have any money."

But even if she did, all the money in the world could never have assuaged the growing weight in her chest as the Temple of Sacred Ashes drew near. Leliana's calculations brought them to it faster than before, and even under all the snow, Ahnnie still recognized the ashen pathway of the dead she had walked through so many months ago. Some of the mummies had been eroded or broken by the harsh winds, but most still stood intact with their eternal terror to haunt her soul all over again. She took a deep breath and clutched the pinecone closer to her chest.

The world darkened for a minute as the procession filed through the little tunnel leading into the Temple ruins, its torches long extinguished. When the world brightened again, it was not with the milky white light of cloudy skies reflecting against snow. Rather, it was the electric green flare of the swirling Breach, as tall and menacing as it had been the first time she beheld it. Ahnnie's eyes were transfixed upon it as she was led down the winding steps to the crater by Cassandra and Solas, while the other companions and soldiers and mages took up positions around the ruined chamber.

Her left hand began to tingle as soon as her feet touched the crater's charred gravel, and she whipped it away from the pinecone to find her mark bursting alive, crackling and spitting as though in delight of meeting the Breach again. _Ready to face your maker?_ Ahnnie asked it with some amusement. But if it had a response, it was one she couldn't understand.

A firm hand pressed her shoulder. Ahnnie turned to find Solas nodding gravely at her. "Go now," he said. "We will be right behind you."

She clenched the hand holding the pinecone tighter and returned the nod. Then with another deep breath, she forged ahead into the center of the crater. The Breach's base swirled wildly around her, whipping up gravel and hair like the onset of a cyclone. She raised her flaring hand as she went, palm forward, to both shield her face and allow its magic to create the beam that would close it all. Its electric sizzling increased with every step.

While she was thus occupied, the Seeker and hedge mage turned to the people assembled above. They were arranged as strategically as possible around the curve of the crater, the mages with their staffs in hand, the templars and regular soldiers sandwiching them with wary weapons. Madame Vivienne replaced Enchanter Fiona as head of the mages this time around, her serpentine staff glittering coldly as she supervised their ranks. Mixed in between were the Chargers, and flanking either side were the archers.

"Mages!" Cassandra shouted, capturing their attention.

"Focus past the Herald!" Solas instructed them. "Let her will draw from you."

Upon that command, Madame Vivienne sank her staff into the ground and knelt as she channeled her mana. One by one, the other mages followed suit, and the air became alive with the thrum of magic. Their power and thoughts coagulated in an unseen mass that Ahnnie suddenly felt within her as a surge of energy, dazzling and vibrant. As she had felt it happen before, the fire stirred in her belly and shot forward from the mark. A brilliant beam snaked away from her hand to coil around the center of the Breach, beautiful and perilous in its wild dance.

The air sang with a ringing melody as the two forces collided. The groan and splintering of the Breach was the percussion, the screeching gale the woodwinds, the snapping crackle the strings. The little figures in the ruins below were the conductors, moving the song from chord to undulating chord as it played through the snowy mountain air. Their symphony amassed into a powerful crescendo, stronger and stronger until it was a deafening fortissimo.

Then, in one great crash, it was over.

The Breach exploded with an earth-shaking boom, sweeping across the Temple in a vast sonic wave that sent everyone flying to the ground. Smoke and dust clouded the air and invaded the lungs. Shaken, dazed, the people struggled to their feet. Cassandra was the first one up, shoving past coughing mages and dizzy soldiers to the darkened crater, now silent save for the wind.

In its concave center right where the Breach had once been knelt a small and hunched figure, long black hair flying in the breeze. Approaching her from behind, Cassandra fished Ahnnie back to reality with a hand on her shoulder. "You did it," the Seeker breathed.

The girl rose to her feet and cast a sweeping gaze over the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The sky above, though still swirling with storm, was no longer plagued by any shade of green. And through the ringing and popping in her ears, through the hissing keen of the wind, the cheers of happy men and women replaced the crashing roars of the Breach.

"I did it, indeed," Ahnnie breathed. Turning round to the cheering congregation, she thrust up her left hand in a fist and shouted, "We _all_ did it!"

It was a triumph worthy of legend, one that would no doubt be spoken and sung of for generations to come. But that was not on Ahnnie's mind at the moment. She'd done it; finally, after all that she'd been through, after all the fights and talks and blood, sweat, and tears...she'd sealed the Breach without incident, and along with it, the door to her way home.

* * *

Music echoed through the mountains that night, sprightly and festive as a new holiday. Laughter and singing filled all of Haven and its tiers burned bright with merry bonfires. The scent of roasting food and heady alcohol carried on the wind, stimulating the senses both emotional and physical. Only a fool would turn away from it in disgust, and a coldhearted one, at that.

Ahnnie was neither a fool nor coldhearted. Solas himself confirmed the Breach was gone, the Veil brought back into balance; even without his word, evidence could be seen in the scarred but calm heavens. The threat of demons and catastrophe was over.

" _Woohoohoo!_ " Sera cheered as she swung down a flight of stairs, landing beside Ahnnie in the middle tier. "Lookit you, all glowy with your Heraldness! Now that's some _good_ magic, if I ever saw any. How's it feel, eh?"

"Like a good time to get stinking drunk," Krem put in from behind them, drawing their attention. He flashed a brilliant white smile. "Chief's already halfway there. If your ears feel like they're getting raped by a dying cow mooing through a rusty trumpet, that's him."

Ahnnie laughed. "Oh c'mon, his singing can't be _that_ bad! Anyway, drinks sound good. I'll head over to the Singing Maiden and get us some."

Krem stopped her before she could leave, however. "Ah-ah! Drinks're on me tonight. Just sit back and tell me what you want." When she tried to insist, he said, "It's all right, I just got paid."

With a smug smile Ahnnie untied a pouch from her belt and held it before him, its contents jingling. "So did I."

Sera let out of squeal of delight. "I want an ale! The largest mug they've got!"

"You got it," Ahnnie winked. "And is it a beer or whisky for you, Krem?"

He tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't relent. She even tried to dash off for the tavern when he moved to push her hand down. "Just one beer then," he conceded, "but I'm paying for the next round!"

"If I'll let you!" she called back over her shoulder with a laugh, already on her merry way the moment she heard the word "beer". As she jogged past the singing and dancing people, declining invitations to join left, right, and center, she almost missed the thick trunk of ginger chest hair standing in the middle of her path.

"Easy there, o great Pinecone Wielder," Varric exclaimed before she could run into him. "Spare me from your prickly wrath, for I have done no wrong."

Ahnnie paused and then laughed. "We shall see about that," she joked, "but in all seriousness, I lost the pinecone after the Breach exploded. I think I may have crushed it too while I was going in."

He shrugged. "Well, hey, it served its purpose. On your way to the tavern?"

"Yup. You want anything? I got the money."

"Nah, I'm good," he said, raising his flask to show her.

She nodded and turned to move away, but then stopped, remembering something. She took up the pouch again and opened it to dig through the coins inside, withdrawing the amount she believed appropriate. "Here," she handed them to Varric. "For the stew and two ales."

"Wha–" The dwarf stared in astonishment at the proffered money. "Do I look like a debtor to you?" he asked at last.

Ahnnie pushed them forward anyway. "Humor me. This is my last day as a freeloader...it's the least you could do."

He gave her a curious glance, which he held for a long while. She stared right back at him, willing to wait for as long as it took. "All right," he sighed, and opened up his free palm.

But before the money could switch hands, warning bells frantically tolled over Haven. Startled, Ahnnie dropped the coins into Varric's hand and perked up instinctively in the bells' direction. They both thought at first that it might be a mistake, the action of some drunken dimwit in the watchtowers; but then Commander Cullen's voice cut through the tolls, instilling both dread and urgency within those who heard it.

"Forces approaching! To arms!"

And just like that, the songs were snuffed out of existence, the laughter dying, the merriment gone. Ahnnie and Varric exchanged a brief glance before dashing off to the gates.

They arrived to find Cassandra and the advisors gathered amongst the soldiers, faces grim. "Cullen?" Ahnnie asked, breathlessly.

"One watchguard reporting," he was saying to Josephine. "It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain."

"Under what banner?" Josephine inquired.

"None."

"None?" she repeated in disbelief.

Cassandra grimaced as she listened to the bells. "Maker's breath. Just when we closed the Breach!"

The doors of the gate suddenly started banging beneath the fist of some harried outsider. Startled, Ahnnie whipped out her glaive, pointing it threateningly at the vibrating doors.

"I can't come in unless you open!" the muffled voice of whoever it was cried.

Cullen signalled for them all to stand ready as they listened for the stranger. At the same time, the gate guards held their levers steady, waiting for the Commander's instructions. So far, it seemed like only one person. The banging continued undisturbed, and the voice pleaded them with a greater ferocity.

"Please!" he cried again. "You need to open–"

Open they did, and the stranger fell through with an unceremonious yelp. Blades and arrows pointed at him, threatening to pierce the life from him should he make a false move.

But one blade did not join the others. Ahnnie's glaive lowered instead at the sight of the tattered young man before them. As if in response, he looked up and stared at her with wide, blue-gray eyes.

"Cole!" she whispered.


	29. Chapter 26

"Stop!" Ahnnie shouted, surprising everyone. "Put down your weapons – I know him!"

Astounded stares met her at every corner, which she received with a firm conviction. But of course no one listened to her order. "And who might he be?" Cassandra asked her suspiciously.

"He's Cole. He's the guy I told you about at the Seeker fortress, but no one remembered seeing him." She opened her mouth to add the fact that he had helped her escape Envy's hold over her mind, but then thought better of it.

Noting the inconsistency, the Seeker subjected Ahnnie to a harsh scrutiny for several seconds before turning over to Cole. She tilted her head questioningly but did not remove her blade. "Is that so? And what have you come for this time, Cole?" she asked, sharp as ice.

Cole rose to his feet and gave his shaky answer to Ahnnie. His pale eyes bore into hers, round with fear. "I came to warn you," he gasped. "To help! People are coming to hurt you."

His response elicited a murmured conversation between Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine. Ahnnie looked from them to Cassandra and back at Cole again, shaking her head in confusion. "Cole? I don't understand..."

"The Templars come to _kill_ you," he stressed.

"But there're no more Templars," Ahnnie argued, "except for the ones who..."

"Were corrupted by red lyrium," Varric finished for her as she trailed off. "Shit. This is...this is bad."

Commander Cullen whipped his head away from the other advisors upon hearing mention of templars and red lyrium. " _Those_ Templars?" he asked in disbelief. "Are we so sure this isn't some rebel faction from the Hinterlands we haven't gotten rid of yet?"

Cole shook his head. "The Red Templars come under the Elder One. You know him; he knows you. You took his mages."

Something chafed irritably within Ahnnie upon hearing that. _His mages,_ as if the mages from Redcliffe were nothing more than mere objects to be possessed. But of a more pressing concern was the Elder One. It would be the third time she'd heard his name uttered by someone outside the Inquisition now. _And t_ _hird time's the charm..._ she wondered just what sort of charm that would be.

"He's _very_ angry that you took his mages," Cole reiterated, full of dread. A distant sound suddenly startled him, causing him to whirl around and point at a rocky outcropping far beyond the walls of Haven. "There."

They followed his finger to the silhouette of an armored man beneath the cold moon. It was rather difficult to tell from their distance, but a gaunt face could be made out in the white light as well as the tint of red on his armor.

"I know that man," Cullen murmured, frowning. "But this Elder One..."

Just as he spoke the name a taller, twisted mockery of the human form appeared beside the armored man. Moonlight glittered upon the jagged growths of red crystal protruding from his skull and enhanced the contours of his thin, elongated ribs, left curiously unprotected. Both figures stood watching the valley below from their perch. Behind them, snaking through the mountain pass, were the winking torchlights of an approaching mass.

"That's him," Cole affirmed.

 _That's the Elder One?_ Ahnnie wondered as she stared aghast at the twisted figure. "We..." She turned to Cullen. "We need a plan! Now!"

"Haven is no fortress," he told her grimly. "If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle." He turned to the soldiers surrounding Cole and waved them off. "This boy is the least of our concerns right now. Get out there and hit that force; use everything you can! Mages! You..." Cullen suddenly caught himself, unused to commanding forces of the arcane variety. "You have sanction to engage them. That man up there is Samson. He will not make it easy!"

Cassandra drew her sword away from Cole and thrust it up into the air. "Inquisition!" she cried. "With the Herald! For your lives; for all of us!"

The soldiers and mages answered the bold commands almost immediately, pouring out through the open gate before scattering like leaves to meet the threat. Josephine ran back into Haven while Ahnnie followed close behind Cassandra, Cullen, Varric, and Leliana, glaive held ready whilst listening to their harried plans. They had to be mindful of where they rushed, for people ran in all directions before them and not all were soldiers; Ahnnie recognized Harritt the blacksmith frantically making off with as many possessions as possible, while Dennet and some stablehands were in the process of removing the horses to a nearby, more defensible storm shelter.

In the midst of it all, she nearly forgot about the silent young man running beside her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise – even more surprising was the fact that neither of the others, previously engaged in threatening him, seemed to notice he was right behind them. "You look much better than last time," she remarked, noting the absence of bruises on his face. His tunic still had the slit where Lord Seeker Lucius stabbed him, though. "How's your shoulder?"

"It's...fine," he replied, slightly surprised. "Sometimes it gets a little achy."

"Right," she nodded, and skidded to a stop as Leliana brought them before a large trebuchet north of the walls.

"We can hinder their advance if we fire from the north and south trebuchets," the spymaster said. "Cullen, you and Cassandra should stay to oversee the north one. I will go with Varric and the Herald to the south one."

Just then, several cries went up from the hill below the siege engine, alerting them to the presence of some of the enemy within fighting distance. If they were to successfully conduct Leliana's plan, they had best do it now. Without another word, Ahnnie split away from the Seeker and Commander to join the spymaster and rogue dwarf – and of course, Cole. She noticed him last minute from the corner of her eye, following them as urgently as though he had been included in the strategy.

 _Weird, I forgot about him there for a sec._ "You don't mind if he comes along?" Ahnnie asked Leliana as they ran, pointing with her thumb at Cole.

"Who?" the spymaster frowned, and then looked to where she indicated. A flash of surprise rippled across her face, but was short-lived. "As long as he can fight, it doesn't matter at this point."

"I can fight," Cole affirmed, a hand brushing against a dagger hilt at his side.

Varric gave the young man a sidelong glance followed by a raised brow. "Strange friend of yours," he remarked. "Awful quiet, too."

"He was anything _but_ quiet," Ahnnie murmured to herself. _Just wait till you feel some sort of pain,_ but the thought was only sarcastic; that uncanny ability of Cole's was sure to land him into trouble if he used it within earshot of anyone else, and she fervently hoped he would keep it to himself.

The south trebuchet soon loomed into view, rising above the crest of a small hill. It was loaded with a large projectile, covered in tar and ready to be lit and fired, but its operators, a small host of Inquisition soldiers, were apprehended midway by several red templars. Though they outnumbered the templars, the soldiers were having a hard time countering the knights' corrupted strength.

With a powerful jump, Leliana launched herself onto the trebuchet's platform before loosing a rain of arrows into the red templars. Varric dove in with Bianca in hand and Ahnnie followed suit to assist a soldier being pushed back by a templar's punishing blows. She slashed at the templar's back, startling him, and the Inquisition soldier took advantage of the surprise to make a sweeping cut in the templar's waist. Enraged, the templar bashed the Inquisition soldier aside with his shield and swung his broadsword down on Ahnnie.

A dagger sank into the back of his neck, freezing him mid-attack. A brief struggle ensued whereby the templar attempted to throw off whoever was clinging to his back, but with a grunt, his assailant drove the dagger in until with a sickening _snap_ it cut through the vertebrae, rendering him useless.

Cole leapt off as the templar fell face down into the snow, eyes meeting Ahnnie's briefly before he blinked out of existence. She jolted in shock and whirled around a moment later to find that he had reappeared several yards to her left, sneaking up on another red templar as suddenly as before. As soon as that templar was disposed of, he moved onto the next one in the same fashion, lightning fast and deadly silent.

 _What is_ _he?_ she couldn't help but wonder for the umpteenth time.

"Don't just stand there!" Leliana suddenly reproached her. "If you're not fighting, you could be of more use up here!"

With a guilty blush, Ahnnie ran up the platform. "Sorry," she apologized. "Um, what do you need?"

"Help that soldier with the signal to the north trebuchet," the spymaster ordered as she nocked another arrow to her bow, "and once a responding signal is given, keep him free to man the trebuchet."

"Got it." Ahnnie then turned over to the soldier in question, and he handed her a torch. She was to light it to a brazier that the operators of the north trebuchet would see. _Easy peasy._ They watched for a corresponding light in the north and found it. Once that was done, she lit the tar-covered projectile and waited as the soldier pulled the winch. As promised, she kept an eye out for the conflict as he worked, glaive held ready to protect him. The templars were down to two men now, but still fought as wildly as raging bulls.

And then, in a great whoosh of air, the trebuchet launched.

It was a sight to behold. The flaming projectile, like a shooting star, sailed through the air in a dazzling arc. At the same time another such projectile marred the night from the north trebuchet. The southern one exploded onto a part of the mountain above the pass while the northern one struck the pass directly below it. The result was a twin avalanche that shook and groaned like a giant awakening from slumber, tumbling wave upon wave of snow onto the procession of Red Templars. As the snow spilled through the mountains, their torchlights winked out as abruptly as candle flames.

Emboldened, the Inquisition soldiers let out a cheer and fell upon the remaining pair of templars with a renewed vigor. Ahnnie meanwhile watched the avalanche with bated breath, unable to take her eyes away from crashing snow as it roared and twisted through the pass, erasing the black specks of trees and figures of men in a vast white blot, until finally it tumbled to a rumbling, fading stop. Then a beastly screech rent the air, followed by the beat of giant wings. Hair rose on the back of her neck as a sudden darkness came over them.

"Look out!" Ahnnie cried, and roughly pulled the soldier along in her jump off the trebuchet's platform. They both fell tumultuously to the ground and shielded their faces as a pillar of fire blast the siege engine into smithereens.

When she helped him up, she found that the explosion had dealt with the remaining templars for them. It also unfortunately took out three of their own. But before anyone could move, a mighty gust of wind assailed their little force. The screech once again echoed from above and a great shadow swept over them. Against her better judgment, Ahnnie looked up to meet the sleek underbelly of a winged and scaled creature soaring through the air, a creature she once thought existed only in myth, both back home and in this fantastical world that had magic and demons–

A dragon.

Her mouth dropped wide open. _No! NO!_ _That is_ not _possible!_

But it was. The horns of retreat blasting from Haven's walls proved it was so. "Everyone to the gates!" Leliana yelled, her usually calm and controlled voice now crackling with the frightened tones of urgency.

Even without her order they would have fled back down the path, running with abandon until they were once again within the town's boundaries. Commander Cullen stood just upon the threshold, desperately ordering soldiers and workmen back inside.

"Pull back, now!" he was yelling. "Move it, move it!" When the last person trickled through, he signaled for the gates to close and did not turn away until he heard them thud together. He then addressed their group as he jogged into Haven, "We need everyone back to the Chantry! It's the only building that might hold against...that beast!" His eyes bespoke a sense of frustrated helplessness. "At this point...just make them work for it."

Another blast of fire snaked down from the sky, hitting a wooden building directly in front of them. Several such blasts echoed through the town in the wake of the dragon's path, leveling to nothing the longtime dwellings of innocent townspeople and the new shelters constructed for the refugees. As the splintered boards scattered in the air and the flames fed on what was left, Ahnnie knew in that moment where she wanted to go first. Her legs carried her to the western edge of Haven, ducking past smoke and flames and rubble; it was only absentmindedly that she took note of the two Inquisition soldiers dashing after her.

"Rescue as many people as you can along the way!" Ahnnie shouted to them over her shoulder. "I'm heading for the Singing Maiden!"

Whether they listened or not was of little concern. She simply forged ahead, occasionally looking into the burning structures on either side to see if any innocents were left within. The crying of a little child alerted her halfway and she ducked into the alleyway of two houses to extract a young boy, no older than three, wailing in fear between a pair of barrels.

"Take him to the Chantry!" she ordered one of the soldiers. Pointing to the other one – "You, come with me."

Together they raced through the burning town until they arrived at the tavern; or at least, what was left of it. In its place was a broken skeleton of wood, burning away into the night like the celebratory bonfires they had lit not more than several hours ago. Ahnnie ordered the soldier to search the area for survivors before running around the ruined structure trying her best to spot signs of people. _Please let them be okay, please let them be okay..._

"Flissa!" she cried upon spotting the innkeeper's prone form. She was wedged beneath some wooden beams several feet within the tavern, obstructed from reach by fallen planks. Ahnnie dropped her glaive to throw the extra wood aside, heart hammering rapidly. " _Flissa_! Can you hear me?"

The innkeeper's body stirred, then groaned. "Ah...nnie?"

"I'm here, Flissa!" The harried girl threw off the last hunk of wood and dropped to her knees to reach through the widened crawlspace for Flissa's protruding hand. She caught it and clasped it tightly. "Everything's going to be okay!"

"...can't," Flissa grunted as Ahnnie started pulling. "Just...go...Osbert took Netta...they're safe."

"Yes I _can_ ," she argued, pulling harder. "You're going to make it! You're going to see them–"

"Please...take care...of her..."

"Don't say that!"

Flissa's head twitched upwards, revealing her bruised and battered face. That was the last thing Ahnnie saw before the tavern's upper level exploded in a shower of flames, sending heavy beams of wood crashing down onto the innkeeper. Her forearm snapped off in a bloody gush as Ahnnie was propelled backward by the momentum; when she recovered from the shock, it was to gaze in horror at the browned fingers still clasping onto her own. " _Flissa!_ "

She would have lain there forever staring at the hand, if not for the Inquisition soldier. "Lady Herald, we must go! It's getting too dangerous!" Her glaive was pushed into her face a moment later, and with a shaken regret, she took hold of it and let go of the severed limb.

They ran back down the path but were forced to take a detour as a house collapsed in their way. They wedged themselves into a narrow opening between two buildings, luckily built of stone at the base, and spilled out a moment later back onto the dirt path. They saw Adan ahead of them, running with two women for the stairs leading to the upper tiers; and then the palisade wall split open, admitting four red templars.

Before they could get close enough to intervene, the nearest templar cut a large slash across Adan's body just as the healer whirled around in surprise. He was then impaled by the templar's sword, whose colleagues made quick work of the shrieking and fleeing women.

A surge of hatred coursed through her veins, such as she had not felt in a long, long time. "Bastards!" Ahnnie shouted. She caught the attention of Adan's killer and spared no time making life difficult for him, slashing and twirling her glaive as fast as her abilities would allow. Common sense had fled and gone; in its place was pumping adrenaline. She blocked and parried for every riposte he made, slashed and stabbed through every opening. It was thus a rude awakening when, a moment later, her body was flung aside by the shield of one of his fellows.

"Lady Herald!" the Inquisition soldier cried desperately, sandwiched by the other two templars and unable to assist.

Ahnnie rolled away in the nick of time as a sword rushed down to pin her stomach. The blade's edge caught against her shoulder but did not bite through, thanks to her leather armor. She thrust upwards with the bladed end of her glaive to fend the templar away, but found she didn't have to when he was suddenly struck by a bolt of purple lightning. She took the opportunity to risk a slide through the other templar's legs, stabbing upward through the codpiece with the bladed end.

His howl of pain assaulted her ears she leapt to her feet behind him, slicing through his back with the crescent blade before knocking him to the ground with a leg swipe at his unstable feet. His sword shot up in defense but she slapped it aside with a rude blow, laying his armored chest wide open, his neck exposed in a slit between the bottom of his helmet and the top of his breastplate.

She sunk the bladed end deep into his windpipe.

Another lightning bolt hissed and crackled through the air to strike another of the red templars. "Quickly, my dear!" Madame Vivienne called to her, and it was then she noticed the Madame with a group of extra Inquisition soldiers making mincemeat of the remaning templars. The Court Enchanter stunned another templar and held out a hand for her. "There is no more we can do here."

Ahnnie ran up the steps and into Vivienne's awaiting hand. "Has everyone–"

"Most of Haven is at the Chantry," Vivienne cut her off as she pulled her up. "The soldiers will follow once they are done."

Ahnnie settled for that assurance as she followed the woman to the Chantry. But her eyes continued to dash left and right, ever vigilant for stragglers or hidden enemies. Her head still pounded with the dregs of her latest fight and she flinched at every wayward shadow, every creak and howl. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" she exclaimed as her ears detected a thin, whining noise on the wind. She dashed off in its direction, much to the Madame's chagrin.

Picking through the lumpy rubble of another broken home, she strained to listen for the noise, feeling it increase at times and decrease at others. "C'mon," she coaxed, "who's a good boy? Who's a good girl? Come here! It's okay!" _Come on, please!_

A little yip echoed several yards to her right and she dove there to find the frightened puppy cowering under a pile of wooden planks. Beneath a heavier pile of wood lolled the lifeless head of his mother, saucer eyes half open to the sky and long pink tongue protruding through the brown muzzle.

Ahnnie gasped. _Lady..._ She grit her teeth and reached under the planks, drawing the shivering pup into her arms. "Shh, it's okay, Charley," she cooed, and then rushed back to the Madame.

They came to the Chantry at the same time as two other civilians, their soldiers following not too far behind. Cole and Chancellor Roderick were at the door, pushing them in as soon as they fled by.

"Move! Keep going!" the Chancellor was yelling. "The Chantry is your shelter!"

Charley squirmed and sprang out of her hands the moment Ahnnie stepped into the hall. She was half afraid he would rush out the door, but then saw him running up to his littermates instead. They were lying despondent at Netta's feet where she sat crying with Osbert and sprang up in excitement upon seeing him.

"Oh, Lady Herald!" Osbert cried, and rushed up to meet her with Netta in tow. The edges of his beard were curled and singed. "Oh thank the Maker, you've made it!"

Ahnnie strapped her glaive behind her and bent down to Netta's level, cupping the child's face in her hands and turning it this way and that. "You're okay," she sighed in relief as she saw no sign of injury, and hugged the little girl tight. "Thank god, you're okay..."

Netta returned her hug with equal fervor, but then asked through her hiccoughs, "Where's Mama?"

"Is Flissa all right?" Osbert added. "Is she coming?"

Ahnnie felt her stomach tighten as she pulled away from Netta. She found it impossible to look into the child's teary blue eyes and cast her gaze down on the floor instead. "I'm so sorry," she said with a gulp.

Osbert drew in a sharp breath. "No," he gasped. Netta burst aloud into fresh sobs and the squat tavern cook gripped her in his arms as he, too, began weeping.

The next person to whom she was the bearer of bad news was Nala. "Your ladyship, are you hurt?" the elven girl asked, coming up to her with a bowl of warm water and a rag. "I know it's not much, but I will do my best until Master Adan comes."

"Adan..." Ahnnie's voice shook as she straightened up. "Adan is not coming."

"He...isn't?"

"No, Nala, he..."

Nala's eyes rimmed with moisture. "I see. I...I will do what I can, then."

Ahnnie turned away, unable to bear with the mournful faces of the people who once smiled and laughed with her. But even though she didn't look at them, their wails of pain and grief pierced the Chantry in an opera of torment. The thud of the doors finally closing was what brought her back into focus, and she looked up to see Chancellor Roderick wavering on his feet before collapsing into Cole's arms.

"Chancellor!" Ahnnie exclaimed as she rushed up to them. "What happened?" she asked Cole.

"He tried to stop a templar," the young man said. "The blade went deep. He's going to die."

Cole hefted the Chancellor up by the arm and Ahnnie followed suit, swinging the opposite arm over her shoulder. As the both of them moved the limp Chancellor down the hall, Ahnnie could see the wound Cole spoke of in the Chancellor's side. The blood was camouflaged in his scarlet robes but gleamed wet and obvious under better lighting.

"What a charming boy," Chancellor Roderick mused at Cole as the two of them lowered him against a wall.

"Shh," Ahnnie hushed him. "Lie still."

She was about to order for some water when Commander Cullen found her. "Herald!" he barked, striding up to where she knelt. "Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time we might have earned."

"I know," she grimaced.

Cole looked up as the Commander came close. "I've seen an archdemon," he interjected, trying to sound helpful. "I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

If Cole's admittance to having been in the Fade bothered Cullen, he did not show it. "I don't care what it looks like," he snapped. "It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!"

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village," Cole put in yet again. "He only wants the Herald."

Ahnnie's hands balled into fists on her thighs. _This Elder One wants only me,_ she thought, _but sends an army and a dragon down the mountain to kill innocent people? Flissa and Adan and Lady and god knows how many more! I thought that everything was solved with the Breach, but no..._ It was more than she could bear. "If it's me the Elder One wants," she began, quivering with rage, "then it's me he'll get!"

Cole looked at her despondently. "It won't work," he murmured, soft voice almost childish. "He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

"You don't like...?" Cullen shook his head in frustration and turned away from the cryptic young man. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable, never mind any selfless sacrifices. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche; we could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."

"We're overrun!" she protested. "The templars have made it through...if we're going to hit them, we'd have to bury Haven!"

"We're dying, but we can decide how," was the Commander's grave response. "Many don't get that choice."

While they spoke, the Chancellor coughed and turned feebly in the direction of the Chantry's deeper halls. Cole was the only one who noticed, and nodded in accord to the Chancellor's silent wishes. "Yes, that," he murmured, and turned back to Ahnnie and Cullen. "Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies."

Upon catching their attention, the Chancellor began his wheezing brief. "There is a path...you wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have. The people can escape. She must have shown it to me...Andraste must have shown me so I could...tell you."

He gripped Ahnnie's wrist with a sudden ferocity. She gasped, startled. "Chancellor Roderick, what–"

"It was whim that I walked the path," he continued, undeterred. "I did not mean to start – it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers...If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident."

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip. "Think it'll work?" she asked Cullen apprehensively.

"Possibly," he nodded. " _If_ he shows us the path. But what of your escape?"

"Escape?" a burly voice cut through. "Ha! By the time we're through, it'll be the _dragon_ trying to find an escape."

Ahnnie looked up to find the Iron Bull ambling towards them, his great battlehammer held lazily across his shoulders, followed by Blackwall and Sera and Dorian and Vivienne – "You'll help?"

"Why of course, my dear," Vivienne purred. "You can't possibly think to accomplish this alone."

"And I suppose a little winter exercise could do me some good," Dorian added encouragingly, flexing a shoulder.

Sera spread out her hands on both sides. "It's pretty simple innit? The people get moving, we spin the trebuchets, _boom_ , snow all over Haven! Then we just run off!"

Blackwall simply shrugged. "It's our only chance. It's worth a try."

Cullen listened to them with a glimmer of approval in his eyes. He then waved a company of Inquisition soldiers over before sending them back out into Haven with fresh orders. "They'll load the trebuchets," he explained to Ahnnie. "Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line. We'll send up a flare to be sure."

She withdrew her glaive as she rose and stood up with it in hand. "Got it," she nodded.

"Inquisition!" Commander Cullen shouted to the rest of the people in the hall. "Follow Chancellor Roderick. Through the Chantry! Move!"

As the people began their shuffling file for the indicated passageway, Cole helped the Chancellor to his feet once more. Roderick's eyes caught hold of Ahnnie's when their faces came level with each other and his voice croaked out, full of hope, "Herald...if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this...I pray for you."

 _He finally called me 'Herald'._ And it came while he was dying. Ahnnie fought back the lump in her throat and simply smiled at the man. "Me too. Stay safe."

Their new group thus split away from the rest, making for the Chantry's main doors while the people headed for the passageways opposite. Ahnnie looked back over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of everyone before the halved Andrastian sunburst closed in completion behind her, shutting the hall away from view for what was very possibly the last time. She drank in the stench of smoke and turned to the path ahead, noting the Inquisition soldiers already on a head start to the east and west.

It was quickly decided that they would split up between trebuchets. Vivienne, Sera, and Blackwall were to head for the west; Ahnnie would go east with Dorian and the Iron Bull. And so they ran through the haze of the burning village, embers flying like glowing snow past their vision. Ahnnie felt her muscles tense as she once again anticipated trouble in the lurking shadows around them.

"Dear me," Dorian remarked a few minutes later, "it looks like we've got company."

The burly silhouettes of a pair of roving templars suddenly traced themselves in the gloom. Iron Bull charged forward with his giant battlehammer, lowering his horns as he swept in between them and dashed them aside with two consecutive bashes. Dorian pierced the air with twirling arcs of flame, setting their enemies afire before sinking a line of flame into the snow to raise up smoke.

They quickly left the scene, vanishing as quietly as possible through the curtain of smoke. It was not their aim to stay and kill; time was of the essence.

Iron Bull led the charge from then on, crashing into red templars both left and right and clearing a path for the two humans behind him. They made better headway in this fashion and were soon past the village walls on the road to the siege engine. The red brutes seemed to pose little trouble for Iron Bull, and Ahnnie felt grateful the qunari came along with them. _I hope the others are doing all right._ If for some reason they didn't make it to their trebuchet, the three of them would have to double back west...

"Holy shit, duck!" Iron Bull suddenly roared.

Ahnnie and Dorian jumped sharply to the left as angry red crystals zoomed past them. They looked up and found a red templar horror guarding the hill ahead with a rain of red lyrium. Atop that hill sat the trebuchet, where a group of red templars were assaulting the Inquisition soldiers Cullen sent ahead.

"That's one ugly bastard," Iron Bull remarked as he swatted aside another red crystal with his battlehammer. "Lemme take care of this one, boss; you go with mustachio here and deal with the guys above."

"Mustach...beg your pardon, but I'm more than just my facial hair, you know!" Dorian protested.

"Don't let the lyrium hit you!" Ahnnie shouted back as she pulled the Tevinter mage after her. They weaved between several more red projectiles before the Iron Bull's battlehammer collided with the horror in a great crash, allowing them to relax somewhat from the danger of being hit by the devilish substance. Ahnnie brought her glaive forward as she jumped into the fray while Dorian knocked away a red templar marksman with a blast of magic, followed by a fiery bombardment on the rest of the knights.

The Iron Bull finally slammed the templar horror to the ground after several minutes of fighting, smashing into his torso like a meat tenderizer. Red lyrium and flesh shattered beneath the battlehammer. With an angry roar the qunari leapt for the other templars, bludgeoning them with wild abandon like there was no tomorrow. His assistance freed some Inquisition soldiers to return to the trebuchet and wheel it through a mechanism in its platform to face the slopes surrounding Haven.

The other templars were finished off the moment the trebuchet was aimed and ready. Iron Bull huffed as he lowered his weapon; parts of his face, arms, and leather chest armor were scored with angry welts and burn marks from the flying red lyrium. He had doubtless been hurt, but wiped his cheek brusquely and took a deep sniff of the cold mountain air like it was nothing. "Ready, boss?" he asked Ahnnie, nostrils flaring.

"Not yet," she replied, watching the mountain slope behind Haven for the promised flare. _C'mon..._ She then turned around and took a gander at the mountain pass opposite the village; _crap. That dragon cleared away m_ _ost of the avalanche._ And even more torchlights were winking down the hills than before. _We're losing time!_

As if on cue, a piercing shriek cut through the night sky. Ahnnie's heart leapt into her mouth as she spotted the accursed dragon's silhouette contrasted against the clouds, growing larger and larger as it zeroed in on their hill. "The dragon's coming back!" she cried in alarm, and ran with the others to get away from the creature.

A scorching column of fire shot down from above to encircle the trebuchet. Ahnnie suddenly felt heat well up behind her and realized with thick dread that the dragon was purposefully aiming for her. She launched with her feet to jump away from the flames, but the toe of her boot caught against a scuff in the ground and tripped her in an unceremonious tumble. Landing roughly on her stomach, it took a few seconds before she regained enough composure to sit up on her knees.

She was starting to rise when a noise alerted her to an incoming presence. Her head whipped to the left and she saw the twisted outline of the Elder One approaching through the flames. His shoulders, whether armored or mutated, rose like great spikes above his emaciated body. His face glimmered with red lyrium in the firelight, jerked into a perpetual smirk by a serrated crystal scarring the edge of his mouth. Red pierced the skin along the ribs and punctuated the abdomen as a garish crimson ridge; a smoked human husk held together by crystals.

Ahnnie grasped the shaft of her glaive and used it as support to straighten faster. She turned around to run but the earth suddenly shook as the dragon, dark as smoke, landed with a crashing pounce on its taloned claws mere yards away from her. She froze, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the creature. Then she took a wary step back, not daring to even breathe. The dragon regarded her ponderously, long scaly neck vibrating in a throaty growl before parting its maw in a roar that blasted a wave of hot, sulphurous breath.

Ahnnie coughed and turned away, shielding her face in her arms. The dragon, enraged by some unknown offense, craned its head back and screeched its ear-splitting song up at the moon.

"Enough," spat a deep voice like rumbling stones. The dragon fell quiet, and Ahnnie spun back around to face the Elder One.

She knew that voice.

The voice of the entity at the Breach–

The possible killer of Divine Justinia V.

"Pretender," he groused. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

Heat scorched her skin and lungs, choking all thought and feeling to smoke save for one question. "What...are you?"

The monster answered her full of contempt. "Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The _will_ that is Corypheus!" His arm stirred from beside him and the long, darkened limb lifted to point a claw-like finger at her. "You will kneel."

"No," she breathed. The burning village flashed before her eyes, as did the Chantry of grief and a night of triumph rendered to ash – "No, I will not!" she yelled, louder. _Not when I know what it means; what it will cost me!_

He was displeased but not surprised. "You will resist," Corypheus surmised. "You will always resist. It matters not." He held up a ball in his other hand, a strange, bronze orb the size of an ostrich egg carved with looping geometric patterns. "I am here for the _Anchor_. The process of removing it begins now."

A bright red magic flared from that hand as he spoke, crackling around the ball until it glowed with a mucky green light. With the other hand he reached for her, orange-red fire dancing in the center of his palm. Ahnnie thought at first that he was going to strike her with magic; but then her left hand tingled. Tingled, flared, ached, stung, stabbed, crackled–

" _Gaaah_!" she cried, doubling over the marked hand. Her eyes watered as every tendon, every fingerbone seared with the white-hot slice of a thousand tiny knives.

"It is your fault, 'Herald'," Corypheus reproached. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose."

She felt the hand move forward and realized with horror that it was being drawn to Corypheus' magic like metal to a magnet. She grit her teeth and tried to fight against the pull. She did so futilely.

"I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched', what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens."

Her pain accumulated in sync to Corypheus' growing spell, until in a final burst of magic the Elder One clenched his hand and sent her mark dancing wildly. Ahnnie howled and dropped to her knees, letting go of the glaive to grip her flaring hand by the wrist. The dragon hissed and stalked behind her, as if to mock her for her suffering.

"And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!"

It took a miracle to get her lips working properly, much less think straight. "I...never...took this...'Anchor' willingly," she ground out. "I didn't know...who you were...it was just...there!"

"And yet you flaunted its power like a fool," Corypheus growled. "You let others decide what the course of the Anchor would be, without understanding or seeking to understand the nature of what you held in your hand. Ignorance is truly the greatest of mortal sins."

A jagged hand suddenly enclosed around her left wrist and hefted her into the air as easily as a rag doll. She screamed and thrashed about with her free limbs, but if it bothered Corypheus, he showed it not at all. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another," he rumbled, "to serve the Old Gods of the empire _in person_. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused; no more." He lifted her higher and higher until she was level with his face; his dried, crackled, leathery face. "I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world."

And then he leaned in close, his penetrating gaze boring through the depths of her soul. "Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and _it was empty_."

The world suddenly flew by in a dizzying blur as Corypheus flung her into the trebuchet. The wood connected with her back and slammed against her skull in a rough crash, knocking the wind from her lungs.

"The Anchor is permanent," Corypheus hissed. "You have spoiled it with your stumbling."

She limped to her feet as the Elder One and his dragon walked over. Fighting through the buzzing in her ears, Ahnnie reached behind for her glaive only to see it on the ground where she had knelt earlier. The dragon stepped on it with a powerful hind leg and crushed the weapon in a single crunch. Undaunted, Ahnnie reached for the sword in her belt and held it out threateningly at Corypheus.

He noted the maneuver with little amusement. "So be it; I will begin again. Find another way to give this world the nation – and _god_ – it requires."

A little speck of light floated above Haven's walls as he spoke. She thought it to be a trick of the eyes at first, but then remembered what she had been here to do. _Any minute now, the west trebuchet will..._

"And you." Corypheus narrowed his eyes. "I will not suffer an unknowing rival. You _must_ die."

Ahnnie glared back at him. "Same goes for you," she retorted hoarsely, and kicked at the winch. It spun madly under the momentum, swinging the stony projectile from under the trebuchet's counterweight and into the air from whence it struck the snowy face of a slope directly above them. Another such projectile slammed into the slope to the west, and the mountains rumbled as the avalanches began their descent.

Ahnnie launched herself off the platform and sprinted away as fast as her weary legs would take her. The snow was spilling with great rapidity and she knew, deep inside, that she would never make it. _At least the Elder One will share the same fate._ But then she heard his dragon screech as it rose into flight and looked up to find it bearing him away. _Oh...fuck._

She grit her teeth and pressed on. _Maybe, just maybe...!_

Powdered frost began to cloud the air and her lungs felt as though they would freeze. With her vision growing obscured, she failed to see the drop straight ahead of her and unwittingly propelled herself off its ledge, flying into the air for a single, stomach-lurching second, before the laws of gravity plunged her through empty space and sank her weight with a deafening crash through a ceiling of wooden planks.


	30. Chapter 27

_Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp-slurp._

"Ahaha! Cao-Cao, stop!"

 _Slurp, slurp, slurp._

"Down, boy! That tickles!"

 _Slurp, slurp._

 _"_ Chị Hai!" Bình called out. His voice resounded from above the grassy hill. "C'mon, it's time to eat!"

"We're making thịt nướng," Tiên added.

"Coming!" Turning to the happy dog, she gestured for him to follow. "Let's go, boy – they're making grilled meat!"

The fluffy brown Akita barked and ran after her as she sprinted through the grass. The day was just so _beautiful_ , with the sunniest sun you ever saw, the warmest air, the bluest sky, the puffiest clouds – such a perfect day for what would be a perfect picnic. As she ran up the slope of the hill, she could just make out the distant forms of her siblings and Cixi waiting for them at the top. The fragrant aroma of thịt nướng, cooked with what could only be the choicest cuts of pork and the most perfectly balanced of marinades, wafted down to her like a beckoning temptation.

"Careful, Chị Hai, it's going to rain!" Tiên suddenly warned.

"You gotta be kidding me," she yelled back. "I checked the weather and everything!"

But the clouds above her suddenly turned grey and covered the blue sky. Thunder echoed in the heavens. She craned her neck up to catch sight of the first falling raindrops, thick and long as beams of wood. No, wait, they _were_ beams of wood. They tumbled on top of her, crashing onto her body in a tumultuous heap. Every beam represented a painful ache in her back, head, sides, arms, legs _._ It happened so fast she didn't even have the time to cry out.

Through it all, Cao-Cao somehow managed to jump in her face. _SLURP!_

* * *

Ahnnie gasped and spluttered, coughing back to life as a clump of snow fell onto her face. When some of it trickled in her nostrils, she gave what could only be the biggest and baddest sneeze of her life. It echoed through her ears like the bashing of cymbals and racked wave upon wave of aches through her body.

 _Unnnghh..._ she cringed, hugging her sides as pain lanced through a rib bone. While every part of her felt sore, a rib on her right side seemed bad in particular. Her head pounded at the thought of it being fractured. _Oh, please, not again..._ her pinky toe had been officially the very first bone she'd ever broken. She wasn't keen on adding another to that list.

Her eyes opened slowly. The world was as dark as when they had been closed – _oh no, I'm blind!_ But as she rolled onto her back, she was relieved to find her sight very much intact, if not perfect. A gaping hole in the ceiling of splintered wood revealed the grey sky above. Clumps of snow teetered at the edges, threatening to drop on her at any moment. With a shuddering sigh, Ahnnie attempted to sit up.

Her joints creaked and cracked. The damned rib protested sharply. She sucked in a breath and forced herself up until she was truly upright. Beyond the spotlight cast by the hole above, murky darkness swam all around. From what little she could see she gathered that she had fallen into a cave. She looked up again, but a crick in her neck forced her head back down. Still, it seemed like a long way to have fallen. There was no conceivable way up.

Ahnnie brought her left hand before her. The mark was calm and glowed sleepily in the gloom. _Perfect, a light source._ She waved it around and discovered that the only way to go, if at all, was forward. Her short sword lay several feet away and she stretched herself, torturously, to reach it. Then she composed the stiff legs beneath her into a stumbling, lurching stand.

She hissed as the rib screamed again. Regardless, she started on her shambling way with gritted teeth. It occurred to her as she progressed through the beginnings of a manmade tunnel that this was all pointless – _But what is there left to lose?_ The night's events came back to her in jerky patches until, at last, they wove themselves into a linear tapestry of tragedy. Everything that made her feel adequate for once had already been taken from her; she might as well not let her life be one of them.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on for forever. Some of the stiffness worked itself out, but the aching still resided like an unwelcome guest. Darkness in the meanwhile taunted her with its eerie absence of sound; there was not even the dripping of stalactites to punctuate the air. Unnerving at first, it quickly became dull. Monotony benumbed the edges of her mind.

So it was with shock that she found torchlight glowing around the bend. Faint and dying, but torchlight nonetheless. "Hello?" she croaked, her throat dry. "Anyone there?"

Then her palm vibrated. _Damn it,_ she cursed, _there's a rift..._ but there was no turning back now. The mark – or, she supposed, the 'Anchor' – vibrated with a greater intensity as she started rounding the bend. Having no more need of a light source, she clenched her weapon's hilt in both hands. If she timed it right, she could possibly close the rift before demons came through – _if_ they already weren't through, in the first place.

She came to another cavern lit by torches at the entrance. It seemed to lead three ways but the only way open was the one in the middle, illuminated by another pair of torches; the openings to the left and right were blocked by rubble, and dark. A rift glowed green in the cave center with no supernatural obstructions, free for her to come and close. She hobbled over to it to take her chance.

Yet she felt so hopeless.

So miserable.

 _What's the point?_ she despaired. _It's not like closing this rift's going to make a difference. Sealing the Breach was the biggest thing I ever did in my life, but it all came undone in a few hours. Now I'm stuck in some underground cave, aching everywhere with no hope of survival...I couldn't even save the people I cared about._

The thought provoked a pang in her chest. Every breath came out labored, and not just because a rib was in pain. She lowered her short sword and looked at it sorrowfully, tracing the length of its blade from crossguard to sharp tip.

 _I should just...end it all._

Warm tears streaked down her face as she shut her eyes tight. The sword's aim was now inverted, set to strike the sunburst eye in the middle of her armor. The only thing she regretted was being unable to say goodbye to everyone else.

The clatter of a light object on the cavern floor was what stayed her hand.

Ahnnie's eyes opened and accosted the noise's source as it rolled to a stop at her boot. It was a small pinecone, caked heavily with snow. She froze for several moments trying to figure out where it might've come from, when she heard wind whistling directly ahead of her. Her head perked up. It was the exit; the middle opening in the cavern _was the way out._

As she made the connection, a cloaked demon coagulated from the darkness and flew at her, screeching with the grief of a thousand mourners. Yelling in surprise, Ahnnie swung her sword to ward it off. The sword scored a hit, but the demon was unfazed. Bleeding black smoke, it hissed as it sank back into the shadows. She made to apprehend it but stopped before she could so much as take a step.

 _What am I doing?_ she thought again, chest growing heavy. _I'll never be able to kill that thing. Not with the condition I'm in. I'm screwed._

And yet, something felt odd. Whether it was because she had been nothing but grim determination earlier, or the realization of an exit had stimulated her, this sudden despair seemed out of place even in someone like her. Now why would that be?

 _I tried to kill myself,_ she thought, horrified. _I_ never _tried to do that before, even at my lowest point._ Realization struck her again. _It's not me...it's the_ _demon!_

She whipped the Anchor out at the rift just as the demon renewed its keening. It sprang from the shadows and began physically attacking her in lieu of influencing her emotions, but as the rift grew weaker, so did it. Having no way to completely fend it off, Ahnnie simply accepted the blows in place or parried one-handed to the best of her abilities. When the rift finally closed and the demon, gone, she was left shivering from the slash marks it had made in her armor. Though no blood had been shed, the icy traces of the demon's essence penetrated to the very skin.

She sheathed the short sword to free up an arm for a self hug. But before she could totter for the exit, she paused, looking back down at the pinecone. Coincidence or not, the sight of it had saved her. She was rarely one to believe in superstitions, but this time around...she picked it up and hugged it tight.

The world outside was a massive blur of swirling snow. It was like stepping into a painting composed of nothing but violent white streaks against a gray backdrop. She bent her head in the wind, teeth chattering, and picked her careful way down the wooden ramp at the mouth of the cave.

Once she reached the bottom, she glimpsed a glowing speck of orange peeping through the whiteness. Ahnnie trudged for it, discerning its shape a moment later as that of a burning upturned wagon. She ran-waded the last few steps and crashed beside it, warming her face near the dying flames. Her left hand, kept ungloved, started stinging. She brought it to the fire as closely as possible and tucked the right hand's glove over it once it was warm. Then she heaved herself painfully back onto her feet. The wagon, though abandoned, had been pointed in one way: forward. If she guessed correctly, that was the way that would take her to safety.

Thus she struggled, alternating the glove between hands as she fought for admittance through the snowy gusts. It was so frustratingly slow, like fighting through thick syrup. Whenever the wind increased in ferocity, she stopped and shivered with more violence. It eventually became too much for her to move the glove from hand to hand and she stuck both beneath her armpits instead. The pinecone rested all the while between her breasts, a brown and spiny crown atop the sunburst eye.

Eventually she stopped shivering. A dark mass of land became visible at this point and the blizzard began to clear, but somewhere along the way her body had ceased reacting to the chill. That did not mean she was oblivious to the cold; the stings on her skin simply became more commonplace. It wouldn't have surprised her if cold was all she had really ever felt and warmth was but a farce invented by her mind. Then stumbling became frequent as her eyelids grew heavier. It did not help that the wolves were howling such soothing songs into the air; if she listened closely, they were almost opera sopranos.

The land mass morphed into a rocky hill which she practically clambered up on all fours. The pinecone had disappeared, dropped in one of the many stumbles. Whatever; she'd forgotten about it long ago. As she came close to the ridge, she spotted a cooking tripod erected over a grey pile of ash. _Someone was hungry._ _Maybe they had thịt nướng_. She staggered over to it and fell on her knees so she could dip her head to observe the ashes. Tiny orange specks still glowed in the dust."Emmmbers? Reeec _ent_?" she slurred.

The discovery encouraged her to keep going. The crest of the hill was walled on both sides by giant cliff faces, so there was no questioning any forks or bends. When she made it to the top, the welcome glow of campfires greeted her from the little valley below.

Ahnnie fell onto her bottom. _I think this is far enough,_ she wheezed. _This is as good a spot as any._ Her mouth widened in a large, lazy yawn. _I'll walk down there in the morning..._

"There, it's her!" a voice suddenly shouted. She made note of it, but only barely as she laid herself onto the snow.

"Thank the Maker!" another exalted.

Her eyes had already closed by the time a strong pair of arms hefted her slackened body to her feet. She slurred out in protest, but they dragged her on regardless. Something about dying easier in sleep when half-frozen. "You'll be able to sleep once you're warmed, I promise you." She was then led down into the valley of flickering campfires, arguing along the way with her guides. Little did she know that her words were about as coherent as a drunkard's.

When they came to the camp's edge, someone tossed a heavy cloak over her. "Your ladyship, you'll be all right," a gentle voice soothed, and thin arms led her away to a cot beneath an erected canopy. Even then, she still wasn't allowed to sleep! "Let me warm your hands first." The glove was taken off of whatever hand it had been on and her fingers brought over to a bowl where they pierced a liquid skin of warmth. Despite efforts to jerk away, her tormentor held a firm grasp over her wrist.

Ahnnie sighed and resigned herself to this fate of forced insomnia. An eternity later, the cold was chased from her limbs and she was finally allowed to lay her head down.

* * *

"What would you have me tell them? This isn't what we asked them to do!"

"We cannot simply ignore this; we must find a way!"

"And who put _you_ in charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing!"

 _Oh, please, not another argument..._ Ahnnie groaned and shut a hand over an ear. _Geez, the way Cassandra and Cullen are going at it, you would think they're getting a divorce._

"Are divorces always so loud?" someone close by murmured.

"Usually," Ahnnie replied, grumpily.

Leliana and Josephine's voices joined in a little later, pushing for infrastructure and arguing semantics. Goodness gracious, was it so difficult for them to respect the peace of someone trying to go back to sleep? It seemed only a second ago that she was lulled into blissful darkness before they so rudely interrupted it. She tried to reclaim that bliss but managed to capture it for a little while before it slipped out of her grasp again and again.

"They've been arguing for hours. You dreamt of them as your parents...but I don't think you remember."

She groaned. "Really? That's..."

"...so stupid. It still hurts, though."

 _The freak? How does this guy know what I'm going to say?_ Ahnnie hoped it was going to be the beginning of another dream. But then her nose itched. Wrinkling it, she felt her breath stalling in her throat until she expelled, through her nostrils, one forceful _achoo._ "Aagh!" she moaned. The fire it spread through her ribs sent her eyes flying wide as pain throttled her back to full awareness, much to her chagrin.

"It's cracked," Cole murmured. "Nala said so. She couldn't slow herself, kind of like you. Only now you're twisting in place, trying to quench the burns. They're everywhere."

Ahnnie panted as she traced his voice to his untidy frame sitting at the end of her cot. He turned to look at her the moment her eyes touched him. Licking her chapped lips, she asked, "How long was I asleep for this time?"

"Long enough for the moon to dip down there."

Ahnnie tried to look at where he pointed, but a section of the canopy blocked it from view. _So quite some time,_ she guessed. In total, though – had it been days, like when she first recovered in Haven? _Or i_ _s it still the same night as the attack?_ "Has the sun ever come up?" she inquired in simpler terms.

"Not yet," Cole replied. "But it will soon, I think."

"I see." She paused, remembering the man who'd saved them all. "Is Chancellor..."

"He's gone."

"Oh."

"He went silently," Cole said. "It wasn't easy, though. He walked through the grating in his side and didn't stop until everyone came here. He sat and waited as the camp was being made; then the soldiers from the trebuchets returned, along with the curly mage and the big qunari, and then the cold lady and the angry elf, and the bearded–"

"Dorian, Iron Bull, Vivienne, Sera, and you were going to talk about Blackwall," Ahnnie interrupted him.

"Yes, them. But when you were not with them, there was lots of yelling. They"– he pointed at the Big Four –"were very loud." And they still were. "The Chancellor was worried. He laid down to die, but before he left, he said a prayer for you. The Seeker lady and big Commander found you much later." Cole sighed. "Shame I couldn't help him with that one last pain in time."

Ahnnie lay still for a while beneath her cloak. Her eyes started burning and her vision grew watery. If what Cole told her was true, Chancellor Roderick had died long before she got here. Her thoughts raced back to the ice tunnels. There was no telling how long she'd laid unconscious in there; no telling whether Haven had reached this camp by the time she got up. No telling, either, if the pinecone rolled to her feet at a precise moment so painfully coincidental, it would be a miracle if true.

"Maybe it is," Cole murmured, reading through her sorrow.

In another part of the camp, the yelling of the Seeker and advisors was more of a constant background buzzing; dim enough to bear, but frustrating to put up with. Mother Giselle turned in their direction, aware of the discomfort it caused her aching patients. Still, she kept herself composed, wiping the sweaty brows of the sick and injured and offering them Andrastian comforts to soothe their pain.

In several hours it would be morning. If the Inquisition decided to move from the valley there would be no choice but to follow, regardless of anyone's physical condition. There would be lost lives, claimed by the Frostback snow; or more likely time, which often stole life even in places of safety. The very people Mother Giselle tended to now might not be with her the next day. But rather than despairing, she rejoiced in the fact. Those lucky souls would be freed from suffering in the arms of the Maker; there could be no greater fate than that.

Letting out a little breath, she sang, " _Shadows fall, and hope has fled. Steel your heart; the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon – the dawn will come._ "

" _The shepherd's lost, and his home his far._

 _Keep to the stars; the dawn will come._

 _The night is long, and the path is dark._

 _Look to the sky, for one day soon–_

 _The dawn will come._

 _Bare your blade..._ "

Music echoed through the mountains that night.

* * *

When the dawn came, Ahnnie was brought to tell her story to the powers that be. They consisted of the Big Four, Madame Vivienne, Blackwall, Varric, and Solas. The last three weren't official authority figures, but they wanted to hear what she had to say firsthand and no one objected to their presence.

"Then the Elder One came," she was telling them, "and his dragon blocked my way, and...well, he had this bad guy monologue and pretty much revealed to me that his name is Corypheus, and that the Breach was his doing. He tried to take my mark away – he called it 'the Anchor' – using this strange orb..."

That part seemed enough to unsettle everyone for the rest of the day. The remainder of the story they didn't even have to guess at, but it was interesting to learn from Madame Vivienne that the demon in the caves was a despair demon. Thus adjourned, the Big Four kept to themselves, dismissing anyone else who came near unless it was absolutely necessary.

As Ahnnie was thinking of sneaking in another nap, a gentle hand squeezed her shoulder. She turned around to find the familiar smooth head of Solas behind her. "A word, da'len?"

"Yes, hahren?" she asked.

He led her away from the camp to stand on the height of a bluff overlooking an even steeper valley. Ahnnie walked up beside him, her steps halting uneasily at intervals. He noticed and gave her a little smile. "I hope I'm not inconveniencing you?"

Ahnnie shook her head and smiled back. "No, not at all."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Much better," she affirmed.

"That is good to hear." Solas paused, keen eyes on the rosy horizon. "What you told us, da'len, of your encounter...the orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you; it is elven."

She blinked. "What? Really?"

"Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach," he went on. "Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived..." He turned his gaze from the sky back to her. "Nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin."

 _And of course, the plot thickens_. Ahnnie tilted her head at Solas, brows furrowed in confusion. "How do you know all that?" she asked.

"They were foci, used to channel ancient magicks. I have seen such things in the Fade, old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter; his empire's magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it."

She nodded slowly as she digested the information. "Yeah," she said at last. "I can see how the elves will become an easy target." _And it won't be pretty._

"History would agree," Solas nodded back. "But there are steps we can take to prevent such a distraction." He paced about the snow, his hands interlocked behind him. "By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it, changed _you_. Scout to the north; there awaits a place for a force to hold it. It is a place where the Inquisition can build...grow..."

Ahnnie watched him as he moved. "Is it far from here?"

"Traveling through the mountains with limited mounts and supplies, followed by a host of people who will mostly be on foot, not counting the sick and injured?" The hedge mage stopped pacing and turned back around squarely to face her. "It may very well take us a month."

Her face blanched at the enormity of his proposal. She knew, however, that if they stayed too long in one place Corypheus and his army might catch up to them again. Hastily built camps could not sustain them forever. As desperate as it sounded, the Big Four would jump at the chance; maybe even get them moving straightaway. _If that's the case, they had better know of it before they make plans to break camp._ So she asked Solas, "What place is it?"

His eyes glimmered in the fresh morning light as he breathed the name with a stirring conviction – "Skyhold."


	31. Chapter 28

It waved purple-yellow in the breeze, fanning out in light violet before blending inwards with summer gold. Frost glistened on its tips and tiny crevices like jewels of the conquered season. Snaking delicately from colorful head to rocky ground was a thin green stem, rooted in the earth by a delicate furl of leaves.

It was a flower.

Ahnnie bent down and plucked it from its domain, watching as it danced in the leisurely breeze between her fingers. Her breath almost caught in her throat.

"Spring is here," she whispered.

* * *

The realization was as sweet a relief as the little flower's scent. The road had been treacherous and winter, unkind. She'd lost track long ago of the days spent wandering through the mountains, negotiating rocky paths and narrow passes in pursuit of the mythical Skyhold – but if the appearance of this flower was anything to go by, they might be close.

The Inquisition had uprooted itself from the valley camp the moment Skyhold's viability was confirmed. Stories of an ancient Fereldan fortress in the Frostbacks vaguely correlating with the location and distance Solas disclosed was proof enough of its existence. If anyone distrusted it, they did not give voice to such thoughts. The promise of not only a more permanent but defensible shelter spurred them on, the siege of Haven being too close a memory for comfort. Camp was broken within a few hours and the journey begun on the cusp of noon.

But that was not to say no one suffered. It happened on the very first day of the journey, even before they started out – one by one, the majorly ill and wounded dropped like flies. The elderly and very young followed suit despite the Inquisition's best efforts to direct more rations and medicine their way. It was hardly unexpected, given their frailer state of body; but as the corpses and burial mounds piled up and their overall numbers diminished, Ahnnie's morale slowly plummeted with them. She would never forget the haunted wailing of one of the female refugees when her infant was found ice cold in his swaddling, and of how she later threw herself off a cliff when no one paid attention. Her widower stayed silent for days afterwards and vanished in the middle of the night when his grief presumably became too much.

So when Netta's fever broke out anew, Ahnnie was terrified. It chilled her to the very core whenever any of the children grew sick, but with Netta there had been a promise, an oath created by flames and crashing wood. The puppies, she noticed, were also growing thin. Stretched between her desire for the greater good of the many and concerns for the closer few, she found herself throwing her needs to the wind trying to appease both.

It was easy enough to do when supplies were fair and, regrettably, made more plentiful by the dwindling numbers – but as the dying trickled to a steadier pace and the majority of the weak killed off, the gnawing emptiness in Ahnnie's stomach grew worse. There were still hundreds in their company amongst whom the steadily decreasing supplies was increasingly being stretched thin. It did not help that the cold mountain climate forced her body to burn more calories than she could take in, either. The animals that traveled with them were occasionally slaughtered when hunting could provide no complement to their gruel, but soon they came to a breaking point. Any animal that grew the slightest bit weak was a prime choice for the day's supper. What little livestock they had brought with them were quickly gone; hungry eyes turned to the beasts of burden. When her Forder suddenly went lame, Ahnnie did not stop to ask for any second opinions.

"Just take him and roast him up," she told the army cooks.

Several of Dennet's horses suffered the same fate that night, so her supper was not likely to have been composed of the poor chestnut's meat. Even so, the sweet taste of horseflesh filled a void within her that she cried herself to sleep about later. Brontos, the burly rhino-like creatures the soldiers used as pack animals, were less of an option for the sheer amount of things they carried – losing one meant potentially losing its cargo as well – but they were easier on her conscience by virtue of having not been directly under her care. Food was becoming scarce for the animals anyway, she would tell herself. She drew the line at dogs, though. Many was the time she found herself defending the three puppies from being snatched. It came to such a point that she would not let them out of her sight. Herald or no, some grew disgruntled at this possessiveness and the way she snuck in morsels to feed the young dogs.

And who could blame them? They had themselves and their families to look after. Even Osbert was displeased with her for a spell, having intended to feed Pepper to Netta when the little girl made a slow but steady recovery. Only Netta seemed grateful for Ahnnie's insistence, as she showed by snuggling with the pups in her bedroll every night. Ahnnie would lay close by, attentive.

Within all this time she interacted little with her companions, even less with Cole. Everyone had their own thing going on and Ahnnie was about as useful to them as the average civilian. Jokes and banter had been exchanged at first, maybe some serious discussions with the Big Four; then it was silence as the journey wore on, and eventually irritation. Solas was the only one who still seemed to be himself, a fact that Ahnnie took comfort in. Even though he was mostly busy guiding them all to their destination and had little time to spend with her, every time she looked into his wise eyes steeled with purpose, she could tell herself that this journey would come to an end.

And it would all be worth it.

* * *

Skyhold was finally sighted a few days after the discovery of the flower. The great fortress sat high on a peak amidst the other mountains like an island in a sea of air. It was accessible via a large bridge spanning a chasm and lay so still and powerful in the weak spring morning, that everyone almost feared it was inhabited by hostiles who would attack the moment they came close. The lack of banners stayed their imaginations and the weary travelers crossed the bridge full of hope.

Yet they weren't entirely wrong about it being inhabited; the inhabitants just weren't hostile. It was clear the moment they crossed into the main courtyard that the fortress teemed with wildlife. Ground dwelling birds such as pheasants, quails, and partridges flourished in the unkempt brambles and bushes, along with hares and rabbits. Then in the trees, peering ponderously at the intruders, were wide-eyed squirrels guarding their stores. Within the fortress itself, mice and rats made their nests in the nooks and crannies of the keep and long-neglected furniture.

It was evident that they would all eat well that night. It was also evident that Skyhold had been left to nature for a very long time. While it stood mostly intact, many areas were in need of repair and rubble had to be cleared; thick layers of dust coated almost every inside surface and animal excreta was everywhere. If the Inquisition were to claim it as a new stronghold, they had much work to do.

* * *

The first official order of business that Ahnnie saw being implemented was the training of Leliana's ravens to recognize Skyhold as their new home. "I sent a quick message to the Hinterlands about Haven's fall before we evacuated from the Chantry," the spymaster explained in the gloom of a makeshift rookery, "but the sooner I can get word out of our new situation to our other allies, the better. I fear there are still refugees and recruits traveling up the mountains thinking to reach Haven."

Such was the regrettable state of communications in Thedas. It had been roughly a month since the Inquisition made its exodus, but Ahnnie knew to give news at least another month to fully sink in, more so in rural places than urban. If things were this slow in a world with magic, she could only imagine the confusion armies from Earth's past faced when such things happened to them.

Luckily, the new season eliminated for now the exigency of survival. Hunting and gathering parties brought in a steadier if not better stream of nourishment, and any wild animals left hiding in Skyhold were soon roasting over campfires or drying out as jerky. Medicine was still scarce, but at least it wasn't dwindling. In the meantime Ahnnie helped with the cleaning and repair efforts. The work was as exhaustive as the expanse of the fortress, especially with the limited resources they had at hand to perform it. There was so much to Skyhold she knew she hadn't seen – rooms and sections and even entire floors blocked off or deemed too hazardous to enter. Yet though they had been at it for what seemed like days, progress felt minimal. It was not so much a sense of curiosity that ate at her nerves as it was frustration at the labor lying ahead of them all.

Ahnnie sighed as she collapsed on the stairway connecting the upper courtyard with the lower one. Sweat glistened on her forehead and her limbs ached with weariness. Her stomach rumbled hopelessly, but she knew the next meal would not be coming for several hours; not if she wanted to conserve the Inquisition's supplies, such as they were. _I've got thirty minutes on this break. More like thirty seconds! Sweet Maker, I hope night comes soon..._

"Are you all right?" an innocent voice asked her, and a tiny body pressed up against hers a second later.

Ahnnie put on a smile. "I'm fine, Netta."

The little girl lay her head against the older one's arm. Pepper, now a tad too big to be held in Netta's arms, tried to wheedle his way into her lap but she only pat him absentmindedly. "You don't look all right. Are you sick?"

"No, no...I'm not sick..." Ahnnie wiped some dirt off her cheek and gave a sniff. "Just a bit tired."

"So am I."

Ahnnie looked over at the light brown head. "Do you feel warm?" she asked, and felt the child's forehead in worry.

"Not so much," answered Netta. "Nala says I am getting stronger every day."

"That's good to hear," Ahnnie smiled, and withdrew her hand when she found the temperature satisfactory. _Nothing too concerning,_ she concluded.

Netta hummed in agreement as she started playing with Pepper's floppy ears. "I wish you weren't so busy," she mused at last. "Then we could play together like we used to. Charley thinks up of the funniest games, and Maiden is very smart. She always outwits him in the end. Pepper doesn't care much, but he really likes the mud. I don't really like it when he tries to get me in the mud, but if you like mud too, you would have a lot of fun."

Ahnnie felt an amused smile tug at her lips. "Okay, I'll remember that for next time. What about your friends, though? You could play with them when I'm not there. Weren't you close with two other girls...Clara and...Jan...Janie?"

"Clara and Janet are gone, and no one else wants to talk with me," Netta sighed.

"Oh." And just like that, her smile flipped upside-down. _Crap. I...I didn't think her friends had been..._ "I'm so sorry, Netta," she apologized. "I didn't realize. So none of the other children want to play with you?"

"No. They're all too busy or sad or tired to play."

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip. She'd been so wrapped up in work that she'd forgotten this was a trying time for children especially. _They never asked for a war to be brought upon them,_ _or for the Veil to be torn open and their homes destroyed..._ Children always seemed to be caught in the middle no matter what happened, and then forced to grow up with the consequences. _Damn it all._ _Why does the stupid world have to work that way?_

Netta sniffed. "I miss Clara and Janet. And I miss Lady. I even miss it when the stupid boys made fun of me." She sniffed again. "I miss Mama..."

Pepper whined as Netta stopped petting him, and the two noises together tore another hole in Ahnnie's heart. _I miss Lady and Flissa too. Most of all, I miss Haven._ The thought elicited pressure in her eyes, but she quickly fought it down with a swallow. She couldn't cry now – she had to be strong. Netta was looking up to her; above the other people the child could have sought for comfort and the other things she could have done to cope, she chose to confide in Ahnnie instead. And she couldn't be disappointed.

Luckily for her, a surefire distraction was close at hand. "My...nose...it's so _big_!"

Netta's sniffing stopped and she looked up at Ahnnie in surprise. "What?"

"Yeah," Ahnnie nodded, "just look at it...it's huge! See?" She put two fingers on either side of her nostrils and then squeezed them together. "Like, even if I smoosh it like this, it's still half the width of my lips," she droned in a tinny, congested voice.

A giggle shook in Netta's breath. "I-it's not _that_ big," the little girl protested. "Just really...round."

Ahnnie let go of her nose and mock-rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, but have you actually _seen_ the size of this honker? It could crush foes in battle! No, I bet if I really concentrated hard enough, I could've blown away the Breach with _just a single sneeze_!"

Unable to hold it in any longer, Netta burst into a hearty fit of laughter. Ahnnie couldn't help but fall prey to the contagious mirth a moment later and found the resulting dopamine burst to be sorely needed. As she imagined using her schnozzle in actual battle, she laughed even harder. An excited Pepper pranced and waved his tail wildly in response, more desperate than ever to grab their attention.

His intrusive licks got them to slow down, but the laughter still lived in their throats as choppy breaths and sighs. Ahnnie was the first to recover and cleared her throat before she spoke. "I know you're feeling sad and lonely right now," she began, "and that's nothing wrong. I feel the same way too. But you're not alone, and I'm not alone, because we've still got each other. Right?"

Netta coughed. "Right," she echoed.

"So...we'll be sad, but it won't last forever and we'll never be lonely. One day, we will look back at the people we miss and smile as we think of them. In the meantime..." Ahnnie cupped the child's hands together in hers. "We should also remember we're not the only ones. Those kids you talked about, who were sad? Did you try talking to them at all?"

Netta shook her head.

"Maybe you could cheer them up," Ahnnie suggested. "You never know. Sometimes a sad person is just waiting for someone to talk to them. You may feel nervous at first, but if you open up with, say...asking after them, doing nice things, or even jokes, then you might find it easier. And when that person starts to feel happy, you'll feel happy too."

The little girl tilted her head in thought. "I think jokes work the best," she decided. "Laughing made me feel much happier."

"That's great! You know how to do this already!"

Her small face beamed in delight at the praise. "Oh, but I won't make fun of your nose, I promise!" Netta hurriedly vowed, now clutching Ahnnie's hands as if it were she who had been doing the comforting instead.

"Oh–" Ahnnie laughed again. "Oh no, Netta, it's okay – you can go ahead and do that. See, I think it's important to be able to laugh at yourself. It makes you feel more comfortable in your own skin."

"But if I make fun of your nose and you're not there to hear it, then it won't be you laughing at yourself but others laughing at you."

Ahnnie raised her eyebrows in surprise. _Now_ that _is some Josephine-level speech analysis._ "That's a very valid point," she agreed a moment later. "But in general, learning to laugh at yourself helps make you a happier person. And if you're a happier person, you'll be better at making others happy."

"So if I'm a happier person making others happy, will I become the _happiest_ person?" Netta asked.

Ahnnie couldn't help but grin. "Yes. Yes, you would."

The little girl tapped thoughtfully on the stone step with her foot. "That sounds very nice. I should like to try it out soon. Could you play with me right now, though? I promise to do what you say after you play with me. I'll get Charley and Maiden too. Please?"

"Ah..." Ahnnie sighed. The disrepair of Skyhold entangled her yet again; not to mention she didn't feel like playing at all. "I'm sorry, Netta, I can't–"

"But I could."

Both girls turned their heads around to find Cole squatting on the stairs just one step above them. Pepper, confused, let out a little yip before descending upon Cole's shoes for a thorough scent investigation. The young man looked down at the puppy with curious eyes. He reached out to poke the fluffy straw-colored fur and his finger was assaulted by licks almost instantly.

"Really?" Ahnnie asked. _How long has he been there? Pepper didn't even notice him...Did he listen to the whole thing?_ That would have been rather embarrassing, if true. At least for a certain part. Waving the thought away, she turned to the little girl. After all, this was _her_ playtime. "What do you think, Netta?"

Netta blinked and crept closer to Ahnnie. "Who is he?"

"He's a friend of mine," Ahnnie assured her. "He's very nice."

"He looks...scary."

Cole flinched. "I don't want to scare you, I promise," he insisted, but wasn't quite so successful, for Netta now clung onto her arm.

 _It's the eyes,_ Ahnnie thought, _and his pale skin, plus the way his hair hangs down in his face...which is also kind of sunken-looking..._ So she could understand why Netta might have her concerns. At the same time, Cole's hurt expression elicited a twinge of pity. "Why don't you try playing with him just a little bit?" Ahnnie suggested. "If you don't like him, you don't have to play with him any further." When the little girl still seemed undecided, Ahnnie added, "Let's introduce him to Charley and Maiden since he's met Pepper. Here, I'll come with you. I've still got some time left."

Netta jumped to her feet at that. "Ooh, Charley and Maiden would be happy to see him! They love making new friends, even if they're ugly."

Now it was Ahnnie's turn to flinch. "U-um, sure...but, Netta, I don't think that's such a nice thing to say..."

The three of them walked down the steps and into the collection of tents in the lower courtyard. Even without Netta guiding them Ahnnie would have known where the tent she shared with Osbert was located. She let Netta run ahead with Pepper before turning apologetically to Cole. "I hope you don't mind...it's just...kids sometimes, you know. When they're that young, they say the first thing that comes to mind and don't really think about the consequences."

"I don't mind," Cole assured her. "I only want to help."

Ahnnie smiled. "That's very sweet of you."

They stopped before the tent and waited for Netta to call out the other two puppies. It did not take long; the little girl's voice combined with Pepper's barks summoned the pointy-eared pair within the span of a few seconds. As the pups spent some time tackling Netta excitedly to the ground, Cole took the opportunity to dig through his pockets for something. "Here," he said a moment later, and held up a fist over her hand.

"Oh?" Ahnnie opened her palm and watched as a handful of plump red berries fell into it. She recognized them as wintergreen, one of the few edible winter fruits she had learned to find while digging through the snow.

"Night won't come soon enough and you'll have to get back to work," Cole explained. "It's all I could find, but I hope it helps."

Whether he had plucked these from the stash of a hunting-gathering party or rifled through the thinning snow to harvest them himself, the berries were a welcome sight that she knew would become a more-than-welcome snack. "Thank you," she breathed, smiling even wider.

As she plopped the berries into her mouth two at a time and savored the sweet, sweet spice bursting across her tongue, Ahnnie thought she could see Cole's thin lips curving in a tiny smile back.

* * *

"Convoy approaching!"

The basket of weeds tumbled out of Ahnnie's arms as the announcement rang across the upper courtyard. The civilians around her froze in their work as well, puzzled looks etched onto their features. Her heart rate spiked as a hand instinctively went to the sword on her belt and her legs pumped across the courtyard, down the stairs, and past the settlement of tents before crashing to a stop by the gatehouse.

The immediate area was alive with the buzzing murmurs of gathering soldiers, agents, and curious civilians. Ahnnie strained to see what the gate and the bridge looked like above their heads but failed miserably no thanks to her height. "What's going on?" she demanded of the nearest soldier, impatient.

"A convoy's been sighted in the mountain pass by one of the hunting-gathering parties, my lady," the soldier replied. "They are due to cross the bridge any minute now."

She let out a hiss of frustration. _Crap! Has Corypheus caught up to us? Was it stupid to have sent out those ravens?_ Even though Solas had assured her that the Elder One wouldn't be able to touch them here, her heart pounded harder at the thought of another attack. _We can't withstand another one! We just made it through the winter..._

"Lady Herald, are you all right?" the soldier inquired worriedly.

She whipped her head over to him. "What banner is it under?" she snapped. "Is there even any? And how large is it? Are there any of our people left out on that pass? We should get them back here as soon as possible!"

The soldier's mouth froze in silent protest before he spluttered in embarrassment, "My lady, you're mistaken...I do not believe this convoy means us any harm, not unless House Trevelyan had intentions of invading us."

Ahnnie froze. "House Trevel...?"

"Yes, Lady Herald. House Trevelyan of Ostwick. I-I apologize for scaring you; I should have told you sooner..."

She barely heard the words uttered beyond "Ostwick". Instead, she swiveled her frozen gaze towards the gates, paralyzed with shock and disbelief as the clip-clop of horses began to echo from the bridge. Eventually, it came close enough to reach beneath the raised portcullis. While every instinct told her to draw her sword and fight, the people around Ahnnie parted to make way as a forest green banner bearing the image of a horse head with a long, flowing mane floated through the courtyard.

Cassandra and Cullen descended upon the scene almost immediately. They met the head of the illustrious convoy as he reined in his dark mount and addressed him after he swung himself off the saddle.

"Lord Robert Trevelyan," Commander Cullen nodded. "It is a surprise to see you here at Skyhold."

"We had not been expecting visitors," Cassandra added, "much less nobility."

"I could not help but assemble my family's resources to bring aid once news of Haven's fall reached the Free Marches," the lord nodded back.

"Aid?" Cassandra echoed.

A familiar voice piped up from the procession behind Lord Robert, sweet and lilting in the crisp mountain air. "The wagons behind us are loaded with food, clothing, medicine, weapons, tools...just about everything a displaced people would need to start their lives anew."

Ahnnie's breath froze in the middle of her throat and her hand fell away from her sword's hilt. "Evelyn!" she cried, and pushed herself through the crowd to catch a sight of her first ever penpal. There she stood at the head of a group of wagons, dressed in deep green traveling clothes of a nobler cut than the last time they'd met and a beautifully carved staff tipped with blue crystal in hand.

The brunette's eyes brightened up with joy. "Ahnnie!" she cried back, and rushed up to encircle the girl in a tight hug.

Ahnnie felt the air squeeze from her ribs beneath the mage's unexpected strength. She couldn't help but smile and raise her arms to return the hug...but as she leaned in close, as she felt the soft neatness of Evelyn's tunic and sniffed the faint scent of something floral in her hair, she stopped and pulled away.

"What's wrong?" Evelyn asked, confused.

Ahnnie rubbed her arm and gave the mage an apologetic smile. "I'm covered in sweat and dirt from work, plus I haven't had a bath since we...uh, left Haven. I haven't changed out of these clothes, either..." The only difference from the night of the siege, she realized, was the absence of the armor.

"That's no problem!" Evelyn laughed. "Come, look here!" She grabbed hold of the girl's wrist and pulled her towards the wagons. Pointing excitedly at one as though at a festival attraction, she said, "This has all the clothes you could ever need and extra fabric to make more. Then there is soap in the medicine wagon right there, and we've got brushes and nail files somewhere, oh, I don't know, but we've got them. And if you're hungry, there's plenty of bread and meat to go around. I know the Ostwick Chantry sent along pickled goods..."

Ahnnie swallowed. "Bread?" she rasped, her mouth already watering.

"Bread!" Evelyn repeated happily. "And enough of its ingredients to go about making more!" They came to a stop at yet another wagon, and Evelyn pulled back the tarp with a mischievous smile. "Physical needs are not the only ones we came to fulfill. I'm sure you'll appreciate having one of these handy for the creation of what can only be _the_ greatest library to come..." She grabbed the nearest book and the cover of _Darktown's Deal,_ volume one, was pushed into Ahnnie's hands a moment later. Its author? Varric Tethras.

"Varric's books?" Ahnnie whispered in disbelief.

"Damn near bought out the whole bookstore of them!" boasted Evelyn. "Of course, there are other kinds too, mostly Robert's selections, and some blank books in case you're into logging, recording, or diary keeping, even. Then we've got plenty more parchment, wax, and ink for all your official correspondence needs..." She paused, her face blanching in mortification. "Wh-why, Ahnnie! Whatever is the matter?"

Ahnnie sniffed and wiped at her watery eye. "I'm sorry," she gulped. "This is all...you didn't have to..."

" _Of course_ we had to!" Evelyn insisted. "How could we just ignore you when Haven was wiped off the map, right after the sealing of the Breach no less? It would be madness not to!"

A nervous chuckle shook her breath. "O-of course," Ahnnie nodded, "it's just...sorry, I said that out of habit..." Then she looked down at the book in her hands, and the memory of opening up a paper-wrapped package in the Singing Maiden flashed by her eyes. _Like a kid on Christmas day._ "I lost it," she murmured. "The book you sent me...it was on the bed in my cabin when I went to..."

Evelyn settled a comforting hand on her shoulder. "There's plenty more of it in the wagon," she assured her. "All the copies you could ever want."

Ahnnie's lower lip trembled. "I lost my pajamas too, and that...that stupid-looking orthopaedic shoe...and then the chopsticks Blackwall made for me, and..." She gulped. "Everything I wrote in that journal. All my drawings and writings that I...I used to remind myself of Earth." She tried to stop herself by biting down on her lower lip, but the tears raced on anyway. "I lost everything that night, except for the clothes on my back and a useless bag of coins!" Which, in a fit of wild frustration, she had tossed down the mountain when the pangs of extreme hunger began to take hold of her mind.

Evelyn drew her closer. "Oh, Ahnnie...everything's going to be all right. Just let it out, now. Hold nothing back."

The words worked like a magic key, unlocking the gates to the pent up emotions that had swarmed and battered about for release; only now did Ahnnie realize just how much she'd been holding in since the start of these new troubles. She hugged _Darktown's Deal_ to her chest and openly wept into Evelyn's shoulder, making no effort to stifle the volume of her cries and sniffs. "I was just starting to be comfortable in Thedas," she sobbed. "Everything was going so well...I was proud of myself for once in my life, and then...and then...! It all came down like a fucking huge _slap_ to the face!"

"I know, I know," Evelyn crooned, stroking her fingers through the matted black hair. "Life's unfair like that."

The mage stood still as she continued to embrace the crying girl, whose grief butchered words by this point into incomprehensible splutters. The spectacle drew quite an amount of attention from the people around them, both of Trevelyan and Inquisition employ. As they recognized the Herald of Andraste sobbing in Lady Evelyn's arms, they grew quiet, remembering that the fabled conquerer of the Breach was but a mortal being like the rest of them, and had been just as battered by the winds of fate as had the most common civilian.

While she was thus occupied, Lord Robert made the order for the wagons to pull further into the courtyard as the rear of the convoy was coming up the bridge. He also waved his men to help unload the goods into the waiting arms of a very grateful Inquisition. Ahnnie's sobs began to subside at this point and she stood awhile with Evelyn to clear the rest of it out of her system before getting back to work.

Optimism swelled in her breast for the first time in what seemed a long time as she joined in the distribution of the much-needed supplies; but alongside that optimism lived a dark and seething thought. A seed had been planted as she had cried the sadness out of her heart, a seed born from the ashes of Haven and the heat of a new determination simply summed into four words:

 _Corypheus...you will pay!_

* * *

 **A/N:** When I updated previously there was a glitch that hindered the sending of story alert emails to both authors and followers. If any of you follow this fic, I have PM'd you. I am SO sorry about that & thank you all for still sticking with me!

And then if you're curious about how I envision Ahnnie, I base her looks off of my cousin. I posted some art on the Ao3 version along with source pics of my cuz that I was planning to link to on my profile here, but the site won't let the links work for some reason. So you're going to have to bear with me if you want to see them. Now listen carefully; your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to:

1) Google "The Otherworlder Ao3"

2) Click the first link.

3) Click on the third story, _Exodus_.

4) Go to the latest chapter (chapter 4) and scroll all the way down until you see **=Author's Note=**. And then voila.

My cousin gave me permission to use and show her pics, and is also ok with the whole 'big nose' thing. She's cool like that :P.


	32. Chapter 29

"They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage."

Ahnnie swept her gaze over the courtyard. Tents and makeshift shelters still crowded the edges, but as more of Skyhold was successfully cleared, any new ones that popped up were mostly gone within the week; new faces mingled alongside familiar ones and the courtyard buzzed with livelier chatter than before. "Indeed it is, Evelyn."

Shortly after the Trevelyans' arrival, more people began finding their way to Skyhold. They ranged from fresh-faced recruits hoping to make a difference, to Chantry Mothers from Ferelden and Orlais and even some rogue templars who'd decided to lend their blades to a different cause. Madame Vivienne's connections in particular were helpful in attaining the charity of generous nobles, especially regarding the labor plus equipment required for the ongoing work on Skyhold. The newcomers all had varied reasons for arriving, but Ahnnie understood the two main things that drew them to be thus:

The Inquisition, in sealing the Breach, proved itself to be a worthwhile force; and then the threat of Corypheus, with his Red Templar army and promise of destruction, was too great a threat for them to ignore.

Those two things combined brought them all together in such a manner as Ahnnie had not the chance to see even in her time on Earth. It was with a measure of pride and awe that she stood beside Evelyn now, witnessing firsthand one of the greatest miracles of sentient interaction that had, no doubt, accomplished many great deeds in the past and would continue to do so in the future –

Coming under a common cause.

 _Solas was right,_ Ahnnie thought. _We can grow here. We_ are _growing here._

Evelyn watched her expression with a smile and gestured for her to follow. "In that case, you will need someone who can help keep its growing stores organized. Someone with a good head for figures, a good memory, and an even better penchant for negotiating."

"Josephine?"

They shared a laugh. "Not quite," Evelyn said when she was done, "but close enough."

As they walked along the courtyard, Ahnnie became aware of a gentle pressure slinking lazily against her calf. She looked down and smiled at the grey tabby feline purring at her feet, yellow-green eyes blinking up at her like sparkling peridot. "Hey there, Silver," she cooed, and reached a hand down to rub the little head. Without a moment's notice, the cat suddenly leapt into her arms and forced her to cradle it, an arm on its bottom and another across its back, to keep it from falling. The peridot orbs were unapologetic; a demanding mew parted the white whiskers shortly after. Ahnnie laughed and scratched Silver's fluffy ears.

"Max was only one she ever did that to," Evelyn murmured. "I could always pet her, but never could I get her to demand affection from me."

Ahnnie knew not whether to feel uncomfortable or flattered by this revelation. It seemed that the more time she spent with Evelyn, the more the mage saw her missing brother in the Herald of Andraste. Silver's interactions with her, for one, or something she would say offhandedly, even down to the particular way she adjusted herself when sitting; it only seemed to reinforce the theory of parallels Solas had mentioned back in Haven. But Maxwell was, as ever, a touchy subject for the girl. "I can tell she was well cared for," Ahnnie remarked, changing the subject. "The Ostwick Circle must have loved her."

"Oh, she was our mascot," Evelyn laughed. "When it came down to her, both mages and templars could agree on something for once. We all raised her as a kitten, you know. She was supposed to catch mice, but I think she caught more treats than mice. She was so sad when Maxwell left for the Conclave..."

Luckily for Ahnnie, the Trevelyan went no further than that. Evelyn stopped them by a group of people inspecting goods beneath the direction of a yellow haired man. His back was turned to them, and so engrossed was he in his duty that he didn't notice their approach. When she got close enough, Evelyn reached out and tapped him playfully on the shoulder.

"Oh!" he started, whirling about with a frightened jump-step. His widened eyes settled as he recognized Evelyn. "Oh bells, it's you," he wheezed with a nervous cough.

Evelyn smiled. "Good morning to you too, Eustace. I don't suppose you've made the acquaintance of Lady Phạm yet?"

Eustace blinked, seemingly oblivious as to what Evelyn was driving at. Then he noticed the black haired girl standing beside her. "O-oh!" he stuttered. "Right, I apologize." Clearing his throat, he introduced himself as, "Morris. Ser Morris, I suppose. I am serving as quartermaster for Skyhold and its, um, arriving throngs. Stores are growing, as you can see." He gestured at the crates and wagons behind him. "And so long as we have fair coin to restock, you and yours will be well served." Another nervous cough.

It took Ahnnie a moment to realize that the coughs and throat-clearing were nervous tics. Studying Eustace's jumpy demeanor, she found that she could relate. _I'd been the same way, not too long ago..._ "A pleasure to meet you, Ser Morris," she smiled. "You can just call me 'Ahnnie'." She shifted her grasp on Silver as she tilted her head in thought. "So, you know Evelyn?"

"Can't say we're thick as thieves," Evelyn confessed, "but he's a well-loved distant cousin of the Trevelyans." She hooked a chummy arm over Eustace's shoulder. "Go on, Ser Morris – tell the Herald of Andraste your qualifications."

Poor Eustace blinked confusedly at Evelyn, and then at Ahnnie. "My family has ties to several freehold militias," he began at last, "as well as cousins acting as officers in Ferelden and Orlais."

Evelyn tapped an impatient finger on his collarbone. "Your qualifications?"

"M-my family holds treaties with three new-money Tevinter houses, _and_ a rare Orzammar contract with a Paragon namesake!"

"Oh, for Andraste's sake – Eustace, _your_ qualifications!"

Eustace flinched beneath the volume of her voice so near his ear. "To be honest, Evelyn, that was _my_ question!"

"Then why did you agree to come here?" she retorted. "Great Maker, why did I even waste my time introducing you to the Herald of Andraste?

The young man fidgeted beneath Evelyn's glare. Drawing in a deep breath, he blurted out, "I am the nexus of a dozen threads tied by others, designed to cast the widest and most appealing resource net. But! Or, I mean...because of that! I will rise to the occasion. Skyhold will want for nothing! I swear it! _Aherm_!"

Evelyn finally released him from her grasp and threw her hands up in exasperation. "There! That wasn't so hard to say, now was it? Although you _could've_ added your resourceful genius to the mix – that one time Father's flour supplier mixed up orders and delivered months late, for one. You managed to stretch the remaining flour by adjusting bread recipes and won us a better contract. And what you did for Rob's trip to Haven, when we brought along an excess of meat by mistake – you got us extra salt at a superb bargain last minute, which cut down considerably on our excess waste once we reached the Imperial Highway. In short," Evelyn huffed, turning to Ahnnie, "he may not act very competent and it may seem at first that he's got nothing but connections going for him. But I've seen what he can do, and I believe in him."

"But then..." Ahnnie frowned confusedly at Evelyn. "What _are_ his qualifications?"

"Hmm? Oh! Right. He was being groomed for the role of main negotiator of his family's trade deals, but he's worked with ours several times in the past. And then we all heard of Skyhold. Little hero-boy couldn't turn down the invitation to be part of something bigger," Evelyn added cheekily.

Eustace's face burned in what could only be embarrassment. "If you are quite finished."

"Of course," Ahnnie nodded. "Sorry for interrupting your work. And thanks, for your swear. It means a lot."

The Inquisition's new quartermaster reddened now for a different reason. "Y-you're most welcome, Lady Phạm. _Aherm._ "

Evelyn shook her head as she and Ahnnie moved away. "And that's the very man who arranged our first wave of supplies. Can you imagine?"

Ahnnie looked back at Eustace and then down at the clean new tunic she wore. She was instantly conscious of the fullness in her belly and the soft feel of freshly washed hair against her cheeks. "I can imagine," said she with a satisfactory sigh.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that the next topic of conversation was Varric's books. Ahnnie had recently started reading _Hard in Hightown_ again and was nearing the last few chapters. She had also dabbed a bit in _Darktown's Deal_ and was eyeing _Swords and Shields_ as the next possible read. Though she had more leisurely time than before, there was only so much she could cram between the duties of her current schedule; even now this little walk of theirs would soon come to an end, and then Ahnnie would be required somewhere by the cleaning crews or the Big Four.

"Say, Evelyn," she began before she could forget, "I wrote to you about Cole; did you get that letter?"

The Trevelyan pursed her lips in thought before nodding. "Yes, I did. Thank you for reminding me. Now, this...Cole...you say he takes on the form of a human?"

"He looks and feels human. Like, he's solid and can bleed."

"And he was in your mind, when Envy tried to take your body?"

"Yes..." Ahnnie had left out the details of Cole's corrupted future, however.

Evelyn frowned. "I'd hate to tell you this, Ahnnie, but...demons and spirits don't usually appear in complete human form. The only ones who can do so – or at least appear to do so – are desire demons. And I'm not sure if you're aware, but desire demons rank highly on the Brahm's Scale. The higher the rank, the more powerful and dangerous."

Ahnnie's eyes widened in shock. _What!?_ But before she could ask for clarification, a big shadow suddenly fell over her. She guessed correctly as she looked up to meet its owner. "Commander Cullen," she greeted amiably. "Do you need me for something?" _I hope he didn't hear what Evelyn was talking about. Did he hear it? He doesn't look like he did..._

But the way the Commander regarded Evelyn seemed, to Ahnnie, an indicator of having heard some of the words. She only hoped he didn't make the connection to Cole, though it wasn't clear if he still remembered the ragged young man. "Seeker Cassandra would like to have a word with the Herald," the Commander said at last. "She's by the stairs to the upper courtyard."

Evelyn opened her mouth to say something, but took it back a moment later with a fleeting glance at the Commander. "I'll see you later, then," she said to Ahnnie. "I've got to run off and see what Rob might need me for."

"In that case, Lady Trevelyan, I've a matter I'd like to discuss with your brother," Cullen interjected. "If you know where he is..."

"Oh, yes," Evelyn nodded, and turned aside to lead the Commander away. "Just over this way." She sent a brief glance at Ahnnie over her shoulder, but whipped it away when she caught the girl staring, and disappeared thereafter down the courtyard with Cullen.

Ahnnie wondered at the strange behavior, but released Silver and nodded anyway. "How bad could it be?" she pondered aloud, taking Evelyn's unease to mean Cassandra's words would not be pleasant.

She arrived to find the Seeker in murmured conversation with Josephine. The ambassador perked up at the girl's approach and nodded at Cassandra before also dispersing on her own way. "I see you have been busy with Lady Evelyn Trevelyan this morning," Cassandra remarked once they were alone, hands folded behind her back.

"We were just taking a walk," Ahnnie explained. "Mostly to talk about Skyhold's growing population."

The Seeker's sharp eyes surveyed the lower courtyard before she gestured for Ahnnie to follow up the stairs. "If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One," she began. "We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated."

Ahnnie shook her head dryly as they mounted the steps. "No kidding. I thought the Breach was impossible enough...even for a magical world, Corypheus was a giant plot twist."

"But we now know what allowed you to stand against him, what drew him to you," Cassandra pointed out.

 _So this is about Corypheus?_ Ahnnie wondered as they reached the landing at the upper courtyard. She stopped to look down at her scarred hand, its glow subdued in the bright morning light. "He came for this," she murmured, "and now that he can't use it, he wants me dead."

Cassandra studied the green mark as well with an indiscernible expression. "The Anchor has power, but it's not why you're still standing here." She then led the girl up another flight of stairs, this one leading to the entrance of Skyhold's main hall. "Your cooperation and determination let us heal the sky. You could have chosen to take advantage of that moment to leave us all to our fate, but you didn't. You are the creature's rival because of what you _did_. And we know it. All of us." She paused a moment to let that sink in before continuing, "The Inquisition requires a leader..."

As they crested the stairs to a joint landing just below the hall's entrance, Ahnnie caught sight of Leliana with her head bowed over a ceremonial broadsword laid horizontally in her hands. She wondered why the spymaster would be doing such a thing until Cassandra uttered the single word, "You."

Ahnnie looked from Cassandra to Leliana in confusion. As the realization began dawning upon her, a sursurrus of voices echoed from below and she craned her head to the side to see people gathering in the lower courtyard, their eyes upturned on the three women above. She spied several of the companions amongst them – Solas, Blackwall, Dorian, the Iron Bull, Sera...a short turn later, she recognized Commander Cullen and Lady Josephine, along with a beaming Evelyn and Eustace. Netta suddenly became visible above the many heads as Osbert hefted the child onto his thick shoulders.

Ahnnie drew back and shook her head at Cassandra in disbelief. "I'm sorry, what...? Take advantage of what moment?"

"Solas told us all," Cassandra explained. "The Breach was your only chance to return home. I am sorry I ever doubted you...the more I think on what he said, the more it makes sense now. The strange things you carried with you, your appearance, your mannerisms and writings – yes, I read your journal," she admitted when Ahnnie frowned, "but only during the time you spent with Sister Magdelene – all these things about you are so different from here. I cannot begin to imagine the enormity of the sacrifice you have made. These people all have their lives because of you...they will follow."

Ahnnie's frown deepened as she looked back towards the crowd at Solas' bald head. _What sacrifice? I didn't make any sacrifice!_ Because if she remembered correctly, there was no feasible way for her to have entered the Breach. How could Cassandra construe that to mean she willingly chose not to? Unless... _Hahren, what did you tell her?_

"I will not lie," Cassandra went on, snapping her focus back on the Seeker. "Handing this power to anyone is troubling, but I have to believe this is meant to be. For without you, there would be no Inquisition." The Seeker gestured at the sword in Leliana's hands, and the spymaster came forward to proffer it to the girl. It blazed in the sun with a burnished coppery hue, the rain guard an angry dragon's head and the crossguard its outstretched wings while a coiling tail made up the hilt. "Take it," she said, "and raise it for the people to see."

Ahnnie stared at the dragon's eyes, little beveled ellipses carved artistically into the metal. She wondered for what sort of purpose Solas would help manipulate such an event. "Still," she remarked, "this is all so...random. You should have chosen someone more...I dunno...like you?"

"Is it really?" Cassandra countered. "What these people need now is not someone whom they feel beyond reach. The advisors and I have seen how they regard you. To them, you are a reminder that heroes come in every shape and form. Even when they disagree with you, you feel real – and that reality is more comforting now than any claims of legend." Her sharp eyes softened a tad, and her voice grew gentle. "Though you may not believe in yourself, Ahnnie Phạm, know that all of Skyhold believes in you."

The sincerity in the Seeker's voice touched Ahnnie tenderly. And now, her introduction to Eustace suddenly made more sense. She took a moment to digest the new events as she pondered the dragon sword again, this time with a different light in her eyes. "Corypheus intends to rule over everyone as a god," the girl murmured. "He must be stopped..." She finally reached out and wrapped a hand around the scaly hilt, her gaze flicking upwards at Cassandra as she did so. "But that's the only reason why I'm taking this up."

"So be it," Cassandra nodded.

The Seeker took a step backwards as Ahnnie hefted the broadsword into both hands. She stumbled at first from the unexpected weight, but regained her balance a second later and held the sword upright.

Assured of the girl's grip, Cassandra strode over to the edge of the landing. "Have our people been told?" she cried down at the crowd.

"They have," Josephine yelled back, exotic voice ringing, "and soon, the world!"

"Commander," Cassandra called out next, "will they follow?"

Cullen turned around to face the gathered people. "Inquisition, will you follow?" he asked of them.

Their resounding cheers rose above the courtyard in a deafening chorus. For every following question the Commander posed to them, the people shouted their assent louder and louder:

"Will you fight?"

"Yah!"

"Will we triumph?"

" _Yah!_ "

"Your leader, your Herald–" Cullen unsheathed his sword as he spun back around, blade held high in Ahnnie's direction. "Your _Inquisitor_!"

The final round of cheers was the loudest of them all.

* * *

Skyhold's main hall was much neater than when she'd originally laid eyes on it. Ahnnie traced the length of the hall to the dais at the end, remembering the dusty and filthy mess it had once been. Broken stone and wood used to lay clattered about the place like a half-finished renovation, and ugly-colored stains that she feared would be permanent had smeared the old stones most distastefully. Now everything was as pristine as could be and just lacked tapestries, a regal carpet, some braziers, and a throne to make it complete.

But Ahnnie was not here to help plan its décor. "This way to the undercroft," Cassandra announced as she led Ahnnie to a door on the right of the dais; the three advisors followed close behind, and when they came through, it was to stand in what appeared to be a cavernous space hidden beneath the shimmering curtain of a great waterfall. The floor was manmade, consisting of familiar cobbled patterns leading with stairs on three sides to a lower tier before ending at a balcony several feet away from the falling water.

A forge burned brightly in a corner of the cave, followed by various crafting tables placed throughout. Ahnnie couldn't guess much at what they were used for; they seemed to be workstations for assembling different pieces, but pieces of what? The oddities strewn about puzzled her greatly. The best she had been able to hint at was a table for armor crafting.

"Ah, Lady Cassandra," Harritt saluted as he came forward.

The Seeker nodded back in acknowledgement. "Where is the arcanist?"

"Oh!" The blacksmith wiped his dirty hands onto his smock and looked about the undercroft. "Dagna!" he shouted. "Where're you? Inquisition's here, for the–"

"Coming!" a cheery, youthful voice returned, and Ahnnie thought at first that it was a child jogging out to them from one of the worktables. As she learned with Harding, though, the auburn haired young woman before her was no child; she was a dwarf. "Hello, there," she greeted Ahnnie with a little wave.

"Our new arcanist," Cassandra introduced at last.

"Dagna, _Arcanist_ Dagna," the dwarf supplied with a brief bow. "It's an honor, Inquisitor." Her bright eyes then flitted over to Ahnnie's left hand, attracted by the dim green light. "Is that it? The hand-Anchor-mark? It's pretty!" she gushed.

Ahnnie blinked in surprise. "Oh, thanks..." No one had ever called the Anchor 'pretty' before.

"The Breach was pretty too, in a...'destroy everything', sort of way," Dagna giggled. She stopped, however, as she noticed the unamused faces of the spymaster, Seeker, and Commander behind Ahnnie. "But I digress. So – I guess you'll be wanting to see it now?"

"See what now?"

"Oh, the – didn't they tell you?" Dagna gestured confusedly at the Big Four.

"Your new glaive," Leliana clarified when Ahnnie turned to them. "We were aware you had lost your old one back at Haven, so we'd commissioned a new one in its stead."

Ahnnie nodded, understanding now. "That's great," she commented. "Yeah, I would like to see it, if you don't mind."

Upon that word, Dagna ran back excitedly to the worktable she'd been occupied at and returned to them with a shining new glaive-guisarme in hand. "Harritt and I made it together," she boasted. "Well, he made the weapon, but I was the one who added that extra 'zing', so it's not just _any_ glaive. It's better; stronger! Your old one got crushed by a dragon? Well, tough luck with this one!"

The weapon before her was as beautiful as it was deadly. The shaft, made of a rich, dark wood, was polished to a sheen and etched with pretty patterns along the two common handholds known to polearm fighters. It was one of these handholds that Ahnnie grabbed now as she stared in awe at the gleaming crescent blade and sharp hook, decorated with whirling patterns welded in the metal, and the rather embellished flame-shaped bladed end–

" _Gyaaahwaaahwhaaat!?_ " came the unceremonious scream as a blast of fire suddenly erupted from the glaive's head. Dagna let out a cry of shock as well and almost dropped the flaming weapon; everyone else jumped a little at the sudden light and noise. As Ahnnie yanked her hand away, canceling the flames, Dagna breathed out a nervous chuckle.

"S-sorry about that," she wheezed, trying to stifle her laughter. "I was going to tell you that it's...it's enchanted."

Ahnnie stared shell-shocked at the new glaive before regaining the presence of mind to reach for it again. "So it...does that when I press...here?" She brushed a cautious finger along what was now a glowing pattern in the wood.

Dagna cleared her throat. "Um, yeah. Well, first of all, I inscribed lyrium runes to enhance its durability. Right...there," she pointed near the head. "Those're passive, always activated even when you don't touch it, so now you've got a weapon that doesn't break as easily. And then you've got the fire runes on the handholds! All you gotta do is just hold 'em like so, and clench." She performed a demonstration, resulting in twin bursts of flame that erupted from both head and bladed end. "Harritt made sure to choose a more fire-resistant type of metal," she explained, "plus I tinkered a bit with some fire resistance inscriptions for the shaft. It's all in there, not to worry; the only thing you're manually in charge of is the fire. And if it goes iffy for any reason whatsoever, just bring it back to me and I'll fix it right up!"

"Wait...lyrium runes?" Ahnnie asked, suddenly apprehensive.

"How else would the enchantments work?" Dagna laughed. "It's not raw lyrium, though. Now _that_ stuff is bad. I work with refined lyrium; once it's been constituted into liquid or powder, it's pretty much safe for anybody to handle. Here, you can handle it now!"

Dagna passed the weapon over to her and Ahnnie took it tentatively into her hands. She slowly traced its length, feeling the smooth wood and carved grooves of the inscribed runes along the shaft; she enclosed the upper handhold cautiously, but seeing no fire, relaxed her grip and swung it about in a few practice movements. Then she brought it down and gave a deliberate clench. Fire spat from the crescent head and blew away into nothing when she released the rune.

"I get it now," the girl nodded. "I just shouldn't have grasped it so forcefully...this is pretty neat, Dagna. You too, Harritt," she nodded as well at the blacksmith. "I'm honored you both made this for me. Thanks!"

The dwarven Arcanist beamed up at her with pride. "Anytime, Inquisitor." Harritt on the other hand turned away sheepishly, hiding his bashfulness behind a sudden interest in a speck on his smock.

"Corporal Hargrave will assist you in learning techniques to handle its new properties," Cassandra told Ahnnie. "It was not our original plan to have it enchanted, but Arcanist Dagna wanted a chance to prove her skills."

"So you enchant things?" Ahnnie asked Dagna curiously.

The dwarf pursed her lips in thought. "Well...it's more like this. I was born to the smith caste in Orzammar," Dagna explained, "but you've a man for that already, and a good one. I'm here because of my passion for magic. I can't actually _do_ magic because I'm a dwarf, but that also means no risk of possession. Safer than a mage!" she winked. "Magical study, magical theory, magical _enchantment_ , and through it, the manipulation of _masterworks_ ; I studied it all with an objective eye. No secrets, no fears. That lets me apply principles like no other. So think of me like a magic crafter; bring me what you want made, and I'll make sure it goes just right."

Ahnnie smiled. "All right. I'll remember that."

"Arcanist Dagna has great skill and a reputation for humbling first enchanters in both Andrastian _and_ Imperial Circles," Josephine mused as the five of them exited the undercroft. Ahnnie's new glaive gleamed behind her back, now attached to her person by a complimentary leather strap from Dagna and Harritt. "Two assassination attempts and at least one explosion made landholders reluctant to allow her passage through their territory...but with a bit of effort, we were able to bring her here from Tantervale."

Cullen snorted in amusement. "If that's what Leliana calls 'a bit of effort', then I'm a Mabari's uncle."

"Much better than sending over a full retinue of soldiers, at any rate," Leliana retorted. "But now, to the war room; shall we?"

Ahnnie perked up at that, excited to see which corner of Skyhold they'd chosen for the war room. Before anyone could say anything, however, a flustered Inquisition soldier cut in between them to tell Cassandra something. She whispered in the Seeker's ear while throwing uncertain glances at Ahnnie and the advisors, and the more she spoke, the more Cassandra frowned. "I cannot come with you at the moment," she told them at last. "There is something I must look into. I shall join you there at a later time."

"Very well, then," Josephine said, and led them across the hall; Ahnnie glanced back at Cassandra once over her shoulder, wondering briefly what had perturbed the Seeker so.

* * *

"So this is where it begins."

Cullen's voice echoed against the stones in an almost hushed reverence as the advisors and newly named Inquisitor stepped into the new war room. It was a spacious chamber with a vaulted ceiling, illuminated along a wall by tall bow windows from which fresh sunlight spilled through. A curling chandelier lay dormant above their heads and a large table made from a polished tree slab sat before the windows, dappled in the shadows of the criss-crossed grilles.

"It began in the courtyard," Leliana interjected. "This is where we turn that promise into action."

The four of them stopped before the table, upon which was spread the familiar map of Thedas that detailed Orlais, Ferelden, and most of the Free Marches. Little dust motes floated in the golden light before settling on the worn parchment, disappearing against the contours of wrinkles and dark ink. Ahnnie fought back the temptation to blow them off as she stared down at the map.

"But what do we do?" Lady Josephine asked. "We know nothing about Corypheus except that he wanted Lady Ahnnie's mark."

Silence enveloped them for a while, in which Ahnnie could feel the three advisor's eyes on her back. She fished through her mind for something to say, something to be useful and appropriate in her new role. "Corypheus mentioned 'championing withered Tevinter'," she said at last, "Does going against him mean waging war with the Imperium?"

"I get the feeling we're dealing with extremists, not the vanguard of a true invasion," Cullen pointed out.

"Tevinter is not the Imperium of a thousand years ago," Josephine added. "What Corypheus yearns to restore no longer exists...though they would shed no tears if the South fell to chaos, I'm certain."

 _Oh, that's right,_ Ahnnie remembered. Her comparisons of the Roman Empire now shifted more towards the Byzantine era – _still, these extremists can do damage, especially with someone like Corypheus around._ "Okay, then," she nodded. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong...it sounds like Corypheus wants to enter the Black City in order to become a god. Is that plausible?"

Leliana's delicate features hardened. "He's willing to tear this world apart to reach the next. It won't matter if he's wrong."

"What if he's not wrong?" Cullen asked hypothetically. "If he finds some other way into the Fade?"

"Then he gains the power he seeks to unleash catastrophe on us all."

Ahnnie pursed her lips in consternation. "That dragon of his," she remembered. "What is it Cole said it was...an archdemon? What is that?"

"Archdemons are the Old Gods tainted by darkspawn," Leliana explained grimly. "The presence of another one now would mean the beginning of another Blight."

Josephine tilted her head in thought. "We've seen no darkspawn other than Corypheus himself," she pointed out. "Perhaps it's not an archdemon at all, but something different?"

"Maybe it's just a dragon?" Ahnnie suggested, but then remembered that if Corypheus was considered a darkspawn, then he would have tainted the dragon into an Archdemon. "Never mind, that was a stupid question..."

"Whatever it is, it's dangerous," Cullen concluded tersely. "Commanding such a creature gives Corypheus an advantage we can't ignore."

Ahnnie's brows furrowed in frustration. "Someone out there must know _something_ about him," she insisted desperately. "Something we can use to gain an advantage with."

The Commander shook his head. "Unless they saw him on the field, most will not believe he even exists. I doubt anyone has ever really known enough about him to help us."

"But we do have one advantage," Leliana put in. "We know what Corypheus intends to do _next_. In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated. Such plans had also been discovered in the Seeker headquarters. And then he found a way into your world, incorporating its technology into his arsenal..."

"I believe sealing the Breach took care of that second plan," Ahnnie said. "Which leaves Empress Celene's assassination for now, at least until Corypheus finds some other way back into the Fade."

Josephine's dark eyes seemed to broil with misgiving. "Imagine the chaos her death would cause," the ambassador murmured. "With his army..."

"An army he'll bolster with a massive force of demons," Cullen added, "or so the future tells us. Otherworldly technology would not even be required."

The Antivan ambassador's voice trembled in foreboding as she shook her head. "Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god."

Ahnnie sighed and planted her weight on both hands against the edge of the war table. Of course, how could she forget the demon army part? Already less than an hour into her new Inquisitorship, and she was stressing out. "Ugh!" she half-groaned, half-spat. "I'd feel better if we knew more about what we're dealing with..."

"I know someone who can help with that," a smoky voice cut in from behind them.

They whirled their heads around to the war room entrance, where they found Varric leaning nonchalantly against the doorway. "What?" the dwarf asked. "You left the door open. You can't _not_ expect eavesdropping when you leave the door open."

Ahnnie couldn't help the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Don't leave us hanging," she said to Varric, gesturing him inside. "If you know such a someone, it'd be much appreciated."

Varric grinned back as he strode into the war room. "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend. He's crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he's doing. He can help."

If she didn't check herself, her jaw would have dropped straight to the floor. _All this guessing and deducing and dreading, and_ _a friend of Varric's is the one who knows something!?_ "What? Really? Who?" she demanded in rapidfire succession.

Varric cringed at the volume of her voice and looked about, as if for fear of being overheard. "Parading around might cause a fuss," he answered her in lowered tones, and stepped closer until he was within murmuring distance. "It's better for you to meet privately. On the battlements."

This sudden secrecy caused Cullen to cross his arms and Leliana to exchange a curious glance with Josephine. Ahnnie couldn't help but frown as well, noting how un-Varric like this shifty behavior was.

"Trust me, it's complicated," the dwarf sighed as he shook his head. "I'll let you know when my friend gets here. In the meantime..." He pointed to his closed mouth and tapped it with a stubby index finger before turning away and exiting the war room. They watched his squat figure recede down the corridor and into the antechamber where Josephine's new office also happened to be located, before it disappeared around the doorway into the main hall.

"Well, then," Josephine blinked after a while. "We stand ready to move on both these concerns."

"On your orders, Inquisitor," Commander Cullen nodded, albeit uneasily. "If you trust this friend of his, we will not complain."

"Well..." Ahnnie fidgeted. "I suppose I do. I trust Varric, after all..."

Leliana's tone, on the other hand, was grave. "If this person is who I _think_ it is, Cassandra is going to kill him."

* * *

Ahnnie was shown to yet another new room in Skyhold shortly after the war room. Its door was situated in the upper left corner of the main hall, directly across the dais from the undercroft. A wooden walkway overlooking a corridor under construction served as the antechamber, and after going up a flight of stone steps, she found herself standing in a bedchamber five times the size of her old cabin in Haven. She stood staring at the queen-sized bed, the upholstered couch, the imposing wooden desk and armchair for what seemed like an eternity. A regal fireplace lay against the wall opposite the bed, flanked by a pair of double paned doors leading out to a magnificent balcony that commanded a stunning view of the Frostback mountains. As if that weren't enough, a spacious loft overlooked everything, accessible via a staircase through an open archway in the wall behind the bed.

"This is my room?" she asked incredulously.

"Is it to your liking, Inquisitor?" the soldier beside her asked.

A breathy laugh escaped her lips. "Are you kidding me?" Ahnnie asked back. "I _love_ it!"

The soldier smiled in relief. "Then I shall leave your belongings here, if it pleases you."

"Oh, sure, anywhere!"

The Inquisition soldier laid a small bag of clothes and the two books by Varric onto the desk. They served as the entirety of her possessions for now, but she couldn't care less. She was too busy fawning over the room, taking in the vaulted ceiling above, the soft comfyness of the bed, the closet space right next to it – a moment later she was admiring the craftsmanship of the desk and the empty shelves behind, waiting to be filled. She ran up to the loft and enjoyed a bird's-eye view of her new room before running back down to put her things away in a large dresser by the bed. And finally, with a look of awe on her face, she walked out to the balcony and drank in the vast mountain scenery before her.

"I could get used to this," she murmured to herself as she leaned against the balustrade. Though the room was largely bare of decorations for now, it shined to Ahnnie like the luxury of a five-star hotel. "Perhaps becoming Inquisitor wasn't so bad..."

A rap on one of the paned doors reminded her that she wasn't alone. "Inquisitor?" the soldier inquired. "I apologize, but word's just come in that you're required in the courtyard by Seeker Cassandra." Another Inquisition soldier's head peeked at her from inside the room, and Ahnnie released her grip on the balustrade with a reluctant sigh.

 _What is it about this time?_ she wondered as she followed the second soldier out. _I hope it's not another surprise..._ the Inquisitor thing had been spontaneous enough. She hoped it would be something more routine this time around, so she was confused and then reticent when she found the Seeker in a heated discussion with Madame Vivienne, Solas, and Evelyn; a heated discussion about...

"Inquisitor," Cassandra cut off as she saw Ahnnie approaching, "I wondered at first if Cole was a perhaps mage, given his unusual abilities." Her sharp eyes narrowed. "Now I realize he is not."

Ahnnie slowed to a stop by the circle they had formed and studied the faces of the four gathered. What she found was not very pleasant. After dismissing the soldier who had escorted her, she asked, "Did Cole do something?"

Madame Vivienne immediately pounced on the new discussion, voice dripping with displeasure. "That _thing_ is not a puppy you can make into a pet," she spat. "It has no business here."

"Wouldn't you say the same of an apostate?" Solas countered; though his voice was largely controlled, there was no missing its undercurrent of vexation.

Vivienne certainly didn't and shot him an icy sidelong glance in response. "An apostate, at the very least, has a measure of predictability," she retorted.

"You never told us about him being present in your mind during Envy's attempted possession," Cassandra then reproached Ahnnie. "A fact you felt quite comfortable sharing with Lady Trevelyan months after the fact."

Ahnnie looked confusedly at Evelyn, who shook her head in earnest. "I didn't tell her about it," the mage insisted. "Rather, it was..."

The arguing four turned their heads around to look at something behind Evelyn, which Ahnnie discovered a moment later to be Cole himself. The young man sat cross-legged on the ground, waving his hands about in play with Maiden. Ahnnie stared at him incomprehensibly for a few seconds before turning back to the others. "Just what, exactly, is going on?" she asked them slowly.

Vivienne gave a disdainful sniff at the sight of Cole. "It wants to join the Inquisition."

Ahnnie immediately frowned at the Madame. "Cole is a 'he'."

"A demon masquerading as a 'he'," the Court Enchanter corrected. "For that is what it is; a demon."

"If you prefer," Solas interposed, "although the truth is somewhat more complex than that."

"And what is the truth, pray tell?" asked Vivienne with a cross of her arms.

Ahnnie turned helplessly to Evelyn yet again. " _Is_ he a demon?"

The Trevelyan shook her head, a confused frown etched on her features. "No...at least, not that I could sense. But that also might be indicative of a particularly powerful demon..."

"My thoughts exactly," Cassandra agreed.

Ahnnie's heart sank with every affirmation from each of the three women. She had hoped the truth would not be as drastic as they claimed. It confused her that someone – or something? – as benevolent as Cole seemed could be...well, a powerful demon.

"He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him," Solas then said, recapturing Ahnnie's attention. "These are not the abilities of a mage; and since there is no definitive proof of him being a demon, it would seem that Cole is a spirit."

"But this violates everything we know about the Fade," Cassandra argued.

Solas nodded sagely. "So it does."

Madame Vivienne shook her head exasperatedly at the elf and insisted, almost demanded Ahnnie to, "Tell that thing it is not welcome here. I shudder to think of what the Inquisition is coming to, if it allows a _demon_ to skulk about its ranks."

Ahnnie's breath caught in her throat. Was that a threat of withdrawal from the Imperial Court Enchanter of Orlais? If so, the stakes were higher than she previously thought. But to appease the disgruntled Enchanter went against her conscience. "Cole helped save me from Envy," she argued. "Without him, I wouldn't have had the strength to think of good memories like Solas told me to. And then he warned us about Corypheus at Haven, an action that saved a lot of lives! Without Cole, we probably wouldn't even be here in the first place!"

"And what will its help cost?" Madame Vivienne challenged. "How many lives will this demon later claim?"

"I'm sorry, Ahnnie," Evelyn apologized as the distraught girl looked over to her. "I...I have to agree. Never have I seen anything like this before, and..."

Only Solas seemed to be her beacon of light in this troubling moment. "Contrary to what you all believe, his nature is not so easily defined," he contended.

"Speak plainly, Solas," Cassandra requested. "What _are_ we dealing with?"

"Demons normally enter this world by possessing something," he explained. "In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous. Cole, however, appears as a young human male."

"Is it possession?" the Seeker asked.

Evelyn shook her head in defeat. "If it is, it is the most expertly done possession I have ever seen."

"No," Solas negated. "He has possessed nothing and no one, and yet he appears human in all respects. Cole is unique, Inquisitor," he remarked to Ahnnie. "More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so."

A tight noise escaped the Madame's mouth. "Do not delude her further, hedge mage," she snapped. "She is already misinformed enough. Demons either possess something from this world or are summoned and bound; they almost _never_ look like someone you'd mistake for a person."

Solas made a sharp inhalation as he faced Vivienne. "Normally you would be correct," he huffed, "but Cole has willfully manifested in human form without possessing anyone."

"Did I say he was possessing anyone?" she countered. "You forget desire demons, which have the ability to manipulate the perceptions of their victims." She turned back towards Ahnnie, dark eyes smoldering. "If you have any concern for the safety of the people here, Inquisitor, you would tell this demon to leave."

 _Three points for demon, one point for spirit._ Ahnnie now felt unsure about where her opinion would fall. She trusted Solas and his observations of the Fade, but to say that the expertise of a Seeker, spirit mage, and Imperial Court Enchanter were dismissible in comparison would be a lie. Her resolve faltered as she considered Vivienne's words in particular. _If Cole really is a demon seeking to claim more lives, then we're in more danger than I thought...but if he's not, and I just heartlessly turn him away..._ the thought of his sad blue eyes assaulting her made her wince. She shook her head in frustration. "Let me talk to him," she said at last. "I'll...see what he has to say for himself."

She couldn't have upset Vivienne more if she tried. "Such words have been the demise of many a mage," the Madame warned. "I beg you to remember that, Inquisitor, in your dealings with that...thing."

That last remark weighed heavily on Ahnnie as she trudged away from the three mages and Seeker over to Cole. _Why is she talking to me like that?_ she thought. _It's not as if I've given him the green light yet. I just said I was going to talk to him, for goodness' sake_. Her frown lightened. _B_ _ut it's not as if I'm going to deny it to him either, aren't I?_ she added with a sigh. _I..._

"...don't know what I'm doing, what I'm _going_ to do," Cole finished for her, and settled his hands down to his sides, much to Maiden's disappointment. The brim of his hat spun around and his sad eyes touched hers a moment later. "I don't want to disappoint or hurt anyone. I just became Inquisitor today."

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Ahnnie heaved through yet another sigh. "I guess you know why I'm here then. Let's...walk while we talk. I don't really want to be close to them at the moment."

They strolled side-by-side through the tents in the courtyard, Maiden padding merrily after them. For a while, Ahnnie said nothing; she half-hoped she wouldn't have to, that it would all blow away a moment later. But she knew that was not how things should be dealt with. _God knows it never worked for me._ She huffed away a stray strand of hair and turned to Cole with the deliberateness of a doomed prisoner, not quite daring to meet his eyes. "So, Cole...you want to join the Inquisiton...how did you, um, go about proclaiming that?"

"You always talk with the Seeker Lady," he began. "And she's always directing things, commanding more than even the big Commander."

"She's Cassandra, and he's Cullen," Ahnnie supplied.

Cole nodded thoughtfully. "So I showed her how I could help. When she still wasn't sure, I told her about how I helped you before."

"Oh, god..." Ahnnie cupped her face in her hands before sliding them upward against her skin in consternation. "You did _what_? Never mind, don't answer that," she interrupted. "I'm going to guess that Vivienne, Solas, and Evelyn were one of the first people she thought of telling."

"Solas was actually with me," Cole admitted. "He said he wanted to be there too when he saw what I was going to do."

If she was curious about Cole's nature before, she was downright baffled now, filled with more questions than answers. "I don't suppose you can tell me what you exactly are?" Ahnnie asked. "Everyone's got all these opinions, but now that I think of it, you haven't really said anything."

Cole went quiet, and when she looked closely at him, she could see his eyes grow distant. "I used to think I was a ghost," he murmured after a while. "I didn't know. I made mistakes...but I made friends, too. Then a templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything. I learned to be more like what I am; it made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help."

Her heart went out to the bedraggled young man, having had lost everything herself twice over now. But his response cleared nothing up. It rather discouraged her that Cole himself didn't even know what he was. _And_ _I'd hoped a spirit mage, of all mages, would know, but..._

With a frown, she reached out while he wasn't paying attention and pinched him on the upper arm. The young man yelped like a startled cat and flinched away to rub the stinging skin vigorously. "You're not a ghost," she said before he could make a reproach. "That would have just gone through you if you were one. Or at least, that's what I was brought up to believe. Ugh, sorry," she apologized, scratching the back of her neck, " _not_ the best thing to have done. I just...I don't know. If it were up to me alone, I'd let you stay to help."

"Yes, helping," Cole nodded. "I help the hurt, the helpless, there's someone..."

He drifted away of his own accord towards some unknown spot. Ahnnie followed trailed by an excited Maiden, relieved that he put the pinching episode so easily behind him yet curious as to what drew his attention. It was a haggard-looking young woman tending to an injured soldier, face completely sapped of energy and liveliness. It was easy to tell that she had been throwing herself wholeheartedly into her tasks. A Chantry sister approached her slowly from behind...

"Eyes rough, jangling armor hurts my ears," Cole recited. "Back aching, fingers too clumsy for knots. Wind cool like Aunt Eloise's pond. Lips scalded as I sip, warmth blossoms, first kiss in the barn, what was his name?" His voice, moving fast yet dreamlike in a harried dancer's grace, made her think of poetry jams. "Tin jangle as the blood spills, Pierre's wrapped body on the wagon to the Chantry, five more minutes, my fault..."

The young woman noticed the Chantry sister and they exchanged words for a bit. The Chantry sister departed shortly afterward and the young woman turned away with her face in her hands. Ahnnie opened her mouth to say something to Cole as they came close, but found that he had disappeared.

He blinked himself instead over to the young woman, startling her with his sudden address. "It's okay. Nothing you did mattered."

"What?" she gasped as she whirled around. "Who are you?"

"They lie there, and sometimes they die, just like Pierre," he went on. "You can't save them."

"I don't...I don't know who you are," the young woman stuttered, backing away from him.

Cole shook his head. "Wait, that didn't work," he mumbled. "Let me try that again. You'll forget me in a minute." He cleared his throat and came closer to the young woman, eyes boring purposefully into hers. She drew back a step, but did not turn away. "You can't save all of them."

"What?"

"Like Pierre getting sick after you snuck out to Aunt Eloise's pond. You want it to be your fault, so there's a reason and it's not so frightening. But there's no reason," Cole said, shaking his head. "Pierre just got sick. The soldier was never going to live; it wasn't your fault. None of it was, and you have to accept that, to forgive yourself."

He seemed to have touched a chord within her, as her awed face showed. But just as his words were beginning to sink in, he raised his hand and made her forget.

It was a strange thing to watch. The magic that emitted from Cole's palm was a dark, smoky grey, punctuated by silvery tendrils of light. It flashed for about three seconds or so before he put his hand back down by his side. Where Ahnnie would have expected the young woman to scream about strange magic, she simply stood blinking for a while before moving along as if nothing ever happened.

"Better," Cole whispered.

Ahnnie stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. "So you just help people and then make them forget about it?" she blurted. She wondered if this was also how Cole displayed his abilities earlier. _No wonder Cassandra got pissed..._

He nodded. "It's better to help and then be gone. If I stay, it can be frightening." When he saw her apprehensive look, he sighed. "It's not how a person would do it...but it helped. That's what matters."

Ahnnie wondered what he meant by "frightening", but her mind returned to more pressing matters. "So if I told you to go away," she began, "would you make me forget? Would you make the others forget?"

"If no one wants me around, there'd no reason for them to remember me," he replied. Then he paused. "Are you going to send me away?"

She inwardly cursed herself for allowing herself to feel that conflict about him yet again. "I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, "I..."

Cole looked down at the ground for a moment, hiding his face beneath the wide brim of his hat, and then back up at her. "I understand," he gulped. "It will be just a minute."

 _Huh? What is he..._ "Wh-whoa!" Faster than she'd expected, Ahnnie grabbed hold of Cole's upcoming wrist just as he was about to raise it to her face. "You didn't let me finish...feeling," she spluttered. "I was going to say – and feel, I suppose – that I'm sorry if you know about me being torn between keeping or booting you. I don't want you to feel unwanted; at the same time, I don't want to make a mistake...but from what I've seen, you're not frightening at all. I don't see the harm in having you around."

His widened eyes looked almost frightened beneath his shaggy bangs. "You don't?"

"I don't," she repeated, smiling. "I mean, no one knows what you exactly are, and there's probably more to all this than strictly demon-spirit classifications. I know it's going to be a real pain in the ass convincing Vivienne and Cassandra," she sighed. "But I'll think of something, I guess."

Cole still didn't seem to wholly believe the positive turn of events, but at the very least he appeared to have made a more optimistic rebound. "And I'll see if I can find some way to help," he added, voice hopeful.

"Then we have a deal." Ahnnie let go of his wrist and held out her hand. When he grew confused, she gestured for him to hold it. She clasped his clammy palm a moment later and they shook hands on it like two businesspeople; Maiden barked at the pair as they did so and attacked Cole's shoe, causing Ahnnie to laugh.

The urge to solidify the promise had been spontaneous, but the intent was not – and Maker willing, this would be the only tough decision she'd have to make in her new career.


	33. Chapter 30

A buzz of activity swarmed throughout Skyhold for the first time in what was probably decades, if not centuries. Optimism ran high, and on this particular day, it coursed along with a renewed sense of duty.

"Just think of it, Rob," said Evelyn as they walked into the main hall. "I could do so much more here than at Ostwick. Since the Circle's disbanded, I would now have a purpose; a mission. My presence at Skyhold would also be equivalent to Trevelyan support–"

"Support that Father is not yet ready to give," Robert interrupted.

The two siblings stopped in the middle of the hall, right in between the wooden scaffolding erected on either side. Builders hammered at the stones above them, the clink of their tools as they chipped away or slid in new stones echoing through the spacious hall like a pebbly percussion.

"Hasn't the Inquisition proved itself enough?" Evelyn challenged after a while. "Their presence at the Chantry's capital aside, they've sealed the Breach within a year. What more could Father want? What are we even here for?"

"Do not mistake a show of generosity for a declaration of support," Robert shot back. "The sealing of the Breach, undoubtedly, goes in their favor. But the fact still remains that they are not an organization any Maker-fearing Bann would cast his lot with."

Evelyn frowned and tilted her head in inquiry. "How might that be?"

"They've given their leadership to the 'Herald', a mere girl." He marked the title with an unmistakably appalled emphasis; Andrastian outrage truly died hard. "Unless her strings are kept close, there's no telling what direction she'll take them under. And since she'll have strings anyway, it remains to be seen whose interests she will serve."

"Ahnnie is not that sort of a person," she protested. "She may be inexperienced, but she's no fool or puppet."

"She may share your taste in books, but she's no more qualified for this position any more than the next commoner," Robert replied coolly.

The jab of offense prickled Evelyn most uncomfortably. "Are you implying that I'm backing her simply because I like her?"

"It would seem so."

Heat welled in the young Lady's cheeks. "Then I'll have you know that you couldn't be farther from the truth," Evelyn retorted. "She has potential, Rob – just because she wasn't born into it, or had the chance to learn it, doesn't mean she hasn't the makings of a good leader. True, she will need guidance. But she's a hero of the people, and not only that, she's willing, compassionate, humble; how many leaders can have the same said of them?"

Lord Robert's ice blue eyes flashed with irritation in the musty torchlight. "Challenge me with this in a year's time, when the effects of her leadership will be plain for all to see...though I suspect they will become evident much sooner. If you wish to stay here in the meantime, then you may do so. Just don't go flaunting the Trevelyan name about like a free banner." He turned on his heel and swiveled his affronted back to Evelyn as he prepared to stride back down the hall. "When you have had your fill of this folly, you will be required back at Ostwick."

His footsteps echoed in her consciousness long after they had faded away, as if to stomp on every hope she had cultivated since their arrival at Skyhold. _He's lucky he made no mention of Maxwell,_ she seethed. _If he had dared to, just_ one _stray remark..._ yet she knew that Robert was not so cruel – especially not when Maxwell's funeral still burned fresh in their memories.

It was something she never would have consented to, but supposed it couldn't be helped. Maxwell disappeared without a trace at the Conclave; if not for the vision at the Breach, he would have been given up for dead along with the other attendees. Their family had waited too long for any sign of the contrary and made arrangements with the Ostwick Chantry shortly before the departure to Skyhold. It was a miserable day, as Evelyn remembered: the sun shining bright, without a care for the somber mood; the pretentious well-wishers, dolled up in elegance and crocodile tears; and then the monotonous hymns, followed by the burning of a faux pyre in lieu of cremation to symbolize his soul's ascent to the Maker's side.

 _The only warm soul in this den of cold,_ Evelyn remembered thinking. There existed one other person of whom she could say the same, and that was their mother, the late Bann Joanna, whose vibrancy passed onto Max the night of his birth. The Trevelyan household never seemed able to reclaim such sunlight ever since.

Evelyn straightened up at the thought and hardened the resolve in her eyes. This was precisely why she was here, in an old snowy fortress miles away from home. For though she stood in mourning at her baby brother's funeral, she believed wholeheartedly that he wasn't dead and would never stop believing until faced with actual evidence. Let Robert think what he wanted to; she would see this to the end, she would _bring_ Max back, no matter how long it was going to take or who she would have to stand beside.

Thus determined, she caught sight of the Inquisition Commander standing sentinel near the dais, his great back facing her with its mantle of furs; deciding upon that destination, she shoved the residue of Robert's unpleasantness aside and marched over to the man.

"Pardon me," she excused as she drew herself up within hearing distance.

Commander Cullen turned his head and noticed her in surprise, as if seeing her for the first time. "Lady Trevelyan," he then greeted her with a nod. "I apologize; I did not notice you there."

"No need to apologize," she assured. "I've interrupted _you_ , after all." She peered over his arm and saw people arranging torches and a pair of braziers about the dais, in the middle of which sat a dark red throne. "Looks like it's all coming together nicely," she remarked.

Cullen cracked a smile. "Lady Josephine's been rearranging this over the last half hour. She hasn't gotten to the tapestries yet, but once she does...Maker spare us all."

"Truly," Evelyn mused. Turning her head, she spotted the Antivan woman standing a little ways to the side, tutting at a brazier misplaced by a centimeter or two. Then the tapestries were delivered, heaped in a little handcart just waiting to be brought out and hung..."I think I'll take the tapestries. My taste shouldn't be so far off from Lady Josehpine's."

"Indeed?" Cullen raised an eyebrow. "That is kind of you, I suppose, but unnecessary. I'm sure Lady Josephine can handle it."

Evelyn knitted her brows together in concern. "But how could I leave a fellow colleague to do all this work alone?" she asked.

It took a moment before the implication sunk in, as was shown by Cullen's puzzled expression. "You wish to be part of the Inquisition, Lady Trevelyan?"

"You mean 'Lady Evelyn'," she corrected with a smile. "And yes, I do."

He frowned. "You are not leaving in the next week with your retinue?"

"No." Her tone was flat and brewing with displeasure at the very thought. "Robert will be going home alone. I know it is quite sudden, but I had planned this for a long time now. There may be some initial complaints, but they'll blow over quickly, I assure you." _Especially after Father sees the usefulness in having some eyes and ears in the Inquisition. Maker-fearing Bann, my ass._

The Commander's confusion turned to curiosity, tinged with intrigue. "I highly doubt you're signing on for the position of interior decorator," he remarked. "What is it that you can bring to the Inquisition besides your noble name?"

Evelyn crossed her arms and heaved a plaintive sigh. "Believe it or not, I'm not seeking to use my noble name to secure a position here. I simply want to contribute to the cause in any way I can. You could ask the Ostwick Circle – or, well...what's left of it – for my credentials. I was just promoted from Mage to Enchanter before the Circle disbanded, and I specialize as a spirit medium; thus, I could aid in any magical research pertaining to the Fade and its denizens."

"What fraternity were you part of?"

 _Asking the important questions, aren't we?_ "Aequitarian," was the answer.

"Ah, yes, Aequitarian," Cullen murmured, nodding. "One of the more reasonable sort." Evelyn cocked an eyebrow at this, but made no comment. Returning to his regular volume, Cullen resumed, "I suggest you speak with Lady Josephine or Madame Vivienne further on the matter. I don't mean to be rude, but I'm hardly the man to assist you in such affairs."

And yet he had probed into her intentions. Curiously enough, he made no mention of Grand Enchanter Fiona. "Very well," she conceded. "I do suppose I had been rather hasty. Thank you for your patience; it has been a pleasant talk, besides."

"For me as well," he nodded. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

She pursed her lips in thought. "Not that I can think of at the moment...once I do, I'll be sure to ask." Then it occurred to her. "But wait; I don't think you're here for interior decorating, either. What, if I may ask, is the special occasion?"

A wry smile played across his sturdy jaw at her question. "You've a sharp eye, Lady Evelyn, I'll give you that. I'm here to supervise the arrival of a prisoner; the dais, as you can see, is being readied for Skyhold's first judgment."

* * *

 _Blights start w/ awakening of Old Gods. Old Gods are [ sleeping beings? Dragons? What?] corrupted by darkspawn into Archdemons. Darkspawn drawn to Old Gods by "call". Archdemon + darkspawn = hordes attacking surface. So far, 5 Blights–_

Ahnnie paused in her writing and turned back to the history book laid out beside her new journal. She flipped back to the page on the First Blight and wrote up the notes on the five Blights accordingly:

 _1\. Began w/ corruption of Golden City. Tevinter magisters returned as first darkspawn, went underground & tainted Dumat. Grey Wardens created. -395 to -203 Ancient._

 _2\. Darkspawn under Zazikel. Imperium lost Anderfels. Lasted 1:5-95 Divine, Chantry formed, Nevarran Accord signed w/ original Inquisition = Circle, Seekers, & Templars._

 _3\. Toth & darkspawn attack south Tevinter & some of Orlais, then east to Free Marches. Bigger swarm than before. Ends 3:25 Towers after 15 yrs._

 _4\. Andoral in 5:12 Exalted devastate Antiva, then Rivain & Free Marches. Ends 5:24 Exalted. Griffons extinct :(._

 _5\. Started 11 yrs ago. Urthemiel awakened by the Architect, attack_ _Ferelden. Ended 9:31 thanks to Hero of Ferelden – shortest Blight ever._

Knowing this, she tried to piece together a pattern, or patterns; just anything that could help her understand Corypheus better. According to his monologue, he had breached the Fade and claimed to have seen the throne of the gods. _He never specified whether it was a Black or Golden City..._ and he also claimed to have been confused for a millennia... _could he be part of the original magisters who corrupted the Golden City?_ Was that even possible? Whatever the case, he was certainly aware of the Imperium's decline throughout the ages.

And then there was the fact that the pantheon possessed seven Old Gods, not just five – _Razikale and Lusacan are left –_ so which one was this dragon? Was Thedas doomed to experience all the Gods' arrivals? But as Josephine said, no darkspawn had been sighted, and curiously enough Corypheus' force consisted of Red Templars. Also curious was that darkspawn were not considered to possess any sapience...until recently.

The information Ahnnie gleaned on the Fifth Blight came separately from a set of two volumes collectively titled _A Study of the Fifth_ _Blight,_ as it was not only the most recent but also the most disputed Blight due to its short duration. The darkspawn that awakened Urthemiel, the Architect, was noted to have possessed sentience and intelligence. It was able to create Disciples, awakened hurlocks capable of speech and free will...

 _The Architect sounds similar to Corypheus. But why is Corypheus so different this time? No darkspawn or taint, just..._

"Inquisitor!" The sudden call caused Ahnnie to drop the quill in her hand. "Oh!" Josephine gasped, revealing her ruffled frame standing before the desk. "I apologize for interrupting you, but you were not responding."

"Josephine," Ahnnie chuckled, and grabbed a rag to wipe the ink blotted onto her desk's surface. She cleaned off her fingers as well for good measure. "Gee, I didn't know you came in...guess I was just really occupied...so, um, it's time?"

"Indeed," the ambassador nodded. "Come; everyone is awaiting you."

Ahnnie settled the quill onto the rag and closed the inkwell before rising from her chair. Then she followed Josephine out of her quarters for the special occasion awaiting in the main hall, mind dancing from Corypheus' origins to the ambassador's puzzling announcement earlier that morning. _Can't be for my birthday. I never told anyone about it, plus June...er, Justinian, is still a month away..._

Her destination was the dais, conveniently accessible right upon exiting the door. But rather than the pristine bareness she'd seen before, it was bedecked now with a fancy armchair flanked by a pair of intricate braziers. A series of tapestries adorned the immediate area of the hall around the dais, colorful yet stern in their lines – but it was the chair that arrested Ahnnie's attention. Upholstered in dark red, its back fanned out in a seashell shape with imposing metal spikes jutting from each joint along the ridge; embroidered in dark gold at the head was the sword-pierced Inquisition symbol.

"Impressive, is it not?" Josephine asked her. "Fit for a leader, meant to show influence...and the burden of it."

Ahnnie blinked. "Well," was all she could say. If she weren't mistaken from the dais and the way the hall was arranged, the armchair looked almost like a throne.

"It is where the Inquisition will sit in judgment," the ambassador went on. "Where _you_ will sit in judgment."

"Ah, I see – wait, _what_?" She whipped her head confusedly towards Josephine. "Judge...judge who?"

Josephine's reply was matter-of-factly, as if Ahnnie should have known this by now. "Those who have done wrong, of course; provided that they survived being brought to Skyhold. You will know of them, at the very least," she added in assurance.

Ahnnie realized her mouth had been gaping and closed it. "I'm...sorry," she faltered a moment later, "but...I think I'm suffering from some role ambiguity...being Inquisitor means judging people too?"

"You are a beacon of law, Inquisitor, as others retreat from responsibility," the ambassador explained. "The Inquisition's sovereignty is derived from the allies who validate it; you are both empowered and bound to mete out judgment." Seeing her horrified expression, Josephine attempted a coaxing smile and assured her that, "This needn't be bloody. Justice has many tools, and if the application is clever, execution may even seem merciful by comparison."

 _Spanish Inquisition, Ahnnie,_ she reminded herself. _They did pretty much the same thing._ Indeed, how could she forget? But luckily for her, this Inquisition worked for a different purpose than the other one. "All right, then," she sighed. "If this is what I have to do."

"It will begin in a few minutes. Do not worry; I will be right beside you in the first few judgments. If you require assistance, simply lean over and whisper to me with a serious expression." Josephine then took up position on the dais' right, a little ways below the throne. "I will be right up there with you soon," she assured a hesitant Ahnnie when the girl still didn't budge. "I must stand here to announce the prisoner first."

"Oh...right. Sorry." With that in mind, Ahnnie mounted the steps of the dais, a dubious eye on the spiny Inquisition throne as she moved close. With a careful hand, she traced the length of an armrest...then, in an equally careful motion, she pivoted on a heel and lowered herself into the dark red chair. _F_ _eels comfy, I guess,_ she thought as her bottom sank down. She next placed a hand on either armrest to adopt the stance of power she'd so often seen in movies and books, before straightening her back and neck to keep her head level. It was then her eyes scanned the hall from her perch and noticed, for the first time, the people gathered about.

Builders paused on the scaffolding to watch the proceedings below; curious civilians fringed the hall entrance; soldiers guarded the doors; recruits, castle staff, Chargers, mages...

 _Mages._

Ahnnie was no good at counting large numbers of people, but it seemed to her as if every mage in the Inquisition had packed themselves into the main hall. For every one person of another occupation, there seemed to be at least three to four mages. She could even pick out Fiona's small frame next to Vivienne's, standing at the front of the crowd on the hall's right; and then she had a sinking feeling she knew why they were here when she spotted Dorian gazing intensely at her from the head of the hall's left.

A sweeping hush flew over everyone as a pair of guards led the prisoner in. He was haggard and worn, garbed in the most basic of Ferelden clothes for the occasion; basic but going threadbare, upholding just the minimum standard of acceptability. Yet even if he'd worn a full-blown Orlesian costume, Ahnnie believed she would recognize him anywhere.

"You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter," Josephine's voice rang out. "Ferelden has given his judgment to us as acknowledgement of our aid. The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assasination." With every word, she mounted farther up the dais until she was, at last, facing Ahnnie within speaking distance of the throne. "Tevinter has disowned and stripped him of his rank. You may judge the former Magister as you see fit." She then shifted her profile by a quarter to regain sight of the crowd, lightly placing herself within reach of Ahnnie as she did so.

The guards pushed Alexius forward and he stumbled, chains clinking, closer to the dais. A light chuckle here and there from the spectators peppered the silence, but if it bothered Alexius, he neither showed nor cared. He simply stood with his head bowed, careworn face hidden from view.

"I-I..." Ahnnie gasped. She did not realize any sound had escaped her throat until she caught Josephine giving her a pointed look. " _Ahem._ I mean, yes, I saw all of this for myself," she corrected. "You have much to answer for...Gereon Alexius."

When Alexius finally spoke, it was in the most gravelly rasp Ahnnie had ever heard. "I couldn't save my son," he retorted. "Do you think my fate matters to me?"

"Well...your son is not yet dead, and there might be a cure," she pointed out. "That could be something for you."

"You know nothing of the Blight sickness," he hissed, "which goes to show just how ignorant you are. Once a person has contracted it, they are as good as dead."

 _But Felix cares,_ she wanted to say, despite the smarting insult. _Your fate would definitely matter to him, even if he's resigned to the fact that you're in chains –_ but was that sort of personal language even allowed in a judgment? She didn't think so, and her indecisiveness kept her mouth shut.

Alexius spoke no further anyway and made no attempt to answer the charges. "Will you offer nothing more in your defense?" Josephine asked after a while.

The former magister let out a derisive chuckle, accompanied by an amused head shake. "You've won _nothing_ ," he spat. "The people you've saved, the acclaim you've gathered – you'll lose it all in the storm to come." His hooded gaze traveled each side of the hall as he made his point, before stopping at Ahnnie with something of a challenge in the stony depths. "Nothing you do will change that. Render your judgment now, _Inquisitor_ , while you still can."

As if on cue, Ahnnie felt most if not all eyes turning expectantly to her, and at the same time, the creeping heat of stage fright working its way up into her face. Time ticked by with an agonizing urgency, distorting seconds into eternities and vice versa. She hardened her features into as stoic a mask as possible and leaned, ever so slightly, in Josephine's direction. "So...what should I say?" she whispered.

Josephine tilted her head close, but not too close. "There has been no predetermined judgment this time, as you are now responsible for making them yourself," she whispered back. "But you do have options. Take the crime and the criminal into consideration; execution and life imprisonment, for example, are common sentences to heavy crimes and he would most certainly be eligible for either. And then since he is a mage, there is the option of making him Tranquil, but–"

"Making him tranquil?" Ahnnie murmured, wondering what that meant. Either way, it sounded more merciful than execution or imprisonment. "That doesn't sound bad."

"It...does have its benefits," Josephine nodded slowly. "He will be able to keep his life and live more or less in freedom without fear of danger from his magic."

"Really?"

"Really. Once he is made Tranquil, he will become perfectly harmless. If that is what you think he should undergo..."

 _All right then. Let's do this._ Ahnnie cleared her throat to signal the end of her little conference and moved her head back into position, eyes locked on the expectant prisoner before her. "I have decided, after much consideration," she slowly began, and she could see the suspense mounting in Dorian's posture from the corner of her eye, "that in light of these charges, you, Gereon Alexius, are to be made tranquil."

A wave of shocked murmurs erupted throughout the hall, confusing Ahnnie. The majority of the mages that she could see suddenly recoiled in horror and outrage, and Dorian's olive face reddened in indignation. Only Vivienne seemed pleased, which Ahnnie supposed was a good sign that the Madame had put their argument about Cole past her...

 _But then why is everyone else so angry?_

"Tranquility?" Alexius practically choked. "So be it. Death would be preferable."

His guards began to close in around him as he spoke the last few words. Before they could reach him, however, Ahnnie shouted for everyone to wait. Chest thudding, she turned in a fluster towards Josephine again. "Why is everyone so upset?" she quickly asked.

Josephine knitted her brows together in consternation. "Well, Inquisitor, to render a mage Tranquil is to cut off their connection to the Fade. This takes away from them the ability to dream or perform magic...it also makes them incapable of feeling emotions. Basically, they become more placid versions of their former selves. I had thought you were aware..."

Ahnnie's jaw dropped in shock. _WHAT!? I thought it was some form of rehab! Oh my god, I have to fix this, quick!_ Turning back to the hall, she stuttered to the bewildered masses, "I-I apologize! I made that decision without knowing the, uh, true nature of Tranquility. I take it back. Instead, Gereon Alexius, you are to..." She then paused, realizing that she hadn't yet thought of an alternative. _C_ _rap, me and my big mouth..._ her eyes flitted from Alexius to a confused Dorian and the two baffled Enchanters in a quest to find inspiration, and upon seeing Fiona, it quickly came to her. "You are to help the mages at Redcliffe like you originally promised. Any...anything you know, or own, shall be put forth to the mages' benefit, and from here on out, you shall answer to Grand Enchanter Fiona and Madame Vivienne."

"Is this judgment final, Inquisitor?" Josephine asked aloud, to be sure.

Ahnnie sank back into her chair with a nervous sigh disguised as a breath of finality. "It is," she affirmed a moment later, and clenched the throne's armrests to keep her fingers from shaking.

"Very well. Case dismissed." The ambassador then motioned for the guards to carry Alexius away, and Ahnnie let out a mental sigh of relief as she watched his hunched form recede down the hall; if the former magister had any thoughts as to his new fate, he did not voice them. Then again, he shot her a scathing look over his shoulder as he passed through the middle of the hall.

 _I don't blame him,_ she thought. _That was...that was bad. The worst, even. Maker, I feel so embarrassed._

"That will be all for today," Josephine announced, shaking her from those thoughts a moment later. "Her Worship has spoken; court is adjourned.

Ahnnie would have been glad for that announcement, had she not been prickled by yet another new epithet. "What did you just call me?" she asked Josephine in disbelief.

The ambassador turned towards her confusedly. "'Her Worship'?" she asked, frowning.

Color rose into Ahnnie's cheeks at the very word. "Please don't. Just 'Inquisitor' is fine. 'Lady Phạm' even, or Herald like...like you did before; just anything but... _Worship_."

Josephine stood frozen in puzzlement, probably wondering what sort of complication it was this time around. "You misunderstand," she said at last. "It is not 'Worship' as in godly reverence, but is derived from the old Ferelden term 'Your Wor _th_ ship'. Many positions of law are addressed by the style–"

"No. I refuse it." With a tightened jaw, Ahnnie took a deep breath and rubbed her face wearily. After a while, she said, "If it's possible for me to make rules around here – is it possible? – then _not_ calling me 'Worship' is going to be one of them. Please note that down."

"But–"

" _Please,_ Josephine."

"...as you wish." Josephine turned back to the hall and re-addressed everyone within it: "The _Inquisitor_ has spoken. Court is adjourned."

* * *

Dorian later found her sitting alone on a bench in what was steadily being pruned into Skyhold's garden. "Oh, Your Worship," he chirped merrily before sliding into place beside her. "That was quite the scare you gave us all! Did you _really_ not know what Tranquility was? Great Maker, and I was just about furious with you! I–"

"Dorian," she whispered, and when she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes. "Not now."

The Tevinter mage ceased upon seeing her distress, and then nodded, mirth fading. "It was a rough start to being Inquisitor, I'll admit. I meant no harm, of course. Just...excuse me, but you don't know how relieved I am that Alexius didn't get sentenced to Tranquility. Or anything overly harsh, for that matter. Of course, Madame de Fer was not so pleased at first with the lenient change," he snorted, "but she seemed placated enough being able to take charge of our dear old time mage, even if alongside the former Grand Enchanter. I hear Fiona's mages are already cooking up interesting ways with which he can serve them."

"Yeah," Ahnnie sniffed. "I guess that's...good..." She for one was just relieved that Knight-Captain Denam would not be next; for the first time ever, she was actually quite glad someone didn't survive the journey to Skyhold. Beyond that, there were no more important prisoners for her to judge...for now. _At least we'll have a private council from now on before I actually do any judging,_ she thought, glad for Josephine's sympathy. _That was just awful!_

"Serving the mages he'd sought to make serve him," Dorian murmured after a while. "There's some justice in that, after what he did to them. Maybe one day he'll realize it." He sighed, then turned back to the despondent girl and gave her an unexpected clap to the back. "Come, now! I didn't go looking for you to make you all weepy. It's over; done; _fini –_ learn from this mistake and make a better decision the next time around."

"I-I know." She sniffed again. "It was just...I mean, so many people watching, and..."

"Pray, don't be so hard on yourself, _Your Worship_."

Ahnnie immediately glared at him. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Dorian couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it...all right, I admit it, yes...but, you know, it's rather awkward, you'd have to admit, for people so used to calling magistrates and justices 'Your Worship' as is custom, and then suddenly being scolded for it." He raised a pointed eyebrow. "Are you not afraid of people saying you're ignorant of its actual meaning?"

She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head angrily. "If it was actually meant as 'Worthship', then why didn't they just stick to that, for Christ's sake? Anyway...no. They can think whatever they want to think, I..." She trailed off, at war once again with unpleasant feelings.

"You...?"

Ahnnie sighed in exasperation. "Stop teasing me, Dorian, I'm miserable enough as it is."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Easy now. I just wanted to help, is all. If you don't want to say it, then you don't have to..."

The injury in his tone made her pause a little, but when she looked at his face, he appeared anything but hurt. _Cheeky bastard._ "Fine," she blurted out a moment later. "It's because...my mom was a bitch. There. You happy now?"

Dorian rubbed his chin in thought. "I'm sorry, but I fail to see how having canine lineage correlates with an aversion to being called 'Your Worship'."

"Dorian!" Goodness, this guy. "You know what I mean..."

He laughed once more at her expense before shrugging resolutely. "Point taken; I won't probe further. You have my word..." He then heaved himself off the bench and stretched his arms. "Good Maker, where has the time gone?" he breathed through a satisfactory sigh. As he swung his arms back into place, he added, "I really got sidetracked, now didn't I? Solas sent me – he wanted to have a word with you in the rotunda."

Ahnnie perked up at that. "He does?"

"He does," Dorian repeated. "Do you know the way? It's on the right of the hall, beneath the atrium. First door from the hall entrance; you can't miss it."

She nodded eagerly as she, too, rose from the bench. "Sounds easy enough. And thanks, by the way." She shrugged. "I guess I do feel better, even if you made fun of me."

"That's the spirit," he smiled. "Now wipe that nose clean and go see what he wants! Can't have the Inquisitor a slobbering mess, now can we?"

Ahnnie's mouth tugged into a smile, which she fought from turning into a chuckle by biting on her lip. "Right," she giggled anyway with a sniff. "I'll go do that. See you."

She took some time as she cut across the garden and back into the main hall to let her nose clear up. Using a handkerchief grossed her out and she avoided doing so whenever she could. She was more or less breathing normally through her nostrils again when she finally reached the aforementioned door, squeezing herself into a neat little corridor before being deposited in the middle of a spacious, circular room open to the expansive atrium above.

A desk of plans sat in the center, and slid to one side was a couch. Wooden planks were stacked on the opposite side, accompanied by scattered pieces of old furniture draped by dusty sheets. She found the lighting cozy, especially at a spot where a lantern of bluish light hung from the beams of a wooden scaffold. And it was here that she noticed the giant fresco looming over her.

Painted in dusky oranges, pale yellows, and grayish browns, it was conceived with straight, pleasing lines that angled from bottom and top in an overall diamond shape. The artist attempted to convey an upside-down triangle at the bottom using slanting lines on either side to depict what looked like mountain slopes, and then a reflection of the angles from above with beaming rays of light spreading outwards at the land below, crowned by a halo of light surrounding an angry greenish center. But it was not yet finished, as she could see from the painter on the scaffold still adding details.

"This is amazing, hahren," she called up to him, beaming. "What is it?"

Solas turned around upon hearing her voice and put down his bowl of paint with a smile. "A depiction of the Inquisition's story, starting with the explosion of the Conclave," he explained. "Wait there," he cautioned when she made to join him, "I'll come down; the paint's still wet."

They came together at the desk once he was down, where Solas showed her the measurements and outlines of the frescos he planned to paint on the ever-curving wall. "I plan on drawing a section of your departure from your world. Would you mind drawing me a scene of Earth for reference?"

"I wouldn't mind," she assured him, already thinking of what sort of scenery she would use. _The shape of my house might still seem normal to Thedosians, so I guess I'll do a little fibbing and make an urban cityscape. Maybe something like that combined with a backyard._ "Do you need it right now?"

"Not necessarily. Whenever you have the time, da'len."

"All right."

She watched him shuffle through the papers for a while, listening happily as he chattered on about the art he would adorn the rotunda with. Finally, however, he came to the point he wanted to make. With a sip of the lukewarm tea on his desk, Solas cleared his throat and looked her straight in the eye. "I believe, da'len, that now is the time when we can start concentrating on your magic again."

Ahnnie nodded. "Of course," she replied eagerly. "I've started up lessons with Hargrave again. It's only fair."

He graced her with a smile. "Good. Would you like to start now, or would you prefer to postpone to a later time?"

"I thought you said now was the ti..." Then she remembered the debacle in the main hall. "Oh. Uh, I think I would like to start now. I want to put that mess as far behind me as possible."

"Very well, then." He busied himself with the papers again, but only to put them in order this time. "Any questions before we begin?"

"Uh..." She frowned as she tried to think of any, and then remembered one she'd been wondering about for a while now. "Well, about my becoming Inquisitor...why did you tell Cassandra I made a sacrifice when I didn't?"

Solas raised an eyebrow at her while his hands worked. "Are you saying that you didn't?"

She pursed her lips. "Um, yeah."

A curious look overtook his face, and Ahnnie couldn't help but add that to her list of oddities surrounding Solas. It sank a moment later beneath a well-timed smile, both reassuring and kind. "Tell me, then, what you said back in Haven two days before sealing the Breach."

"That doesn't count," she protested. "I couldn't have gone back anyway, and there was no other choice..."

"But isn't that it? You understood there was no choice." Solas straightened up and dusted off his hands, finally done. "It was seal the Breach, or leave Thedas to fall to the demons...now imagine if you had a way back. Knowing all that depended on you, would you have gone? Would you have left us – the friends you had made – to a future of doom beneath the Elder One?" When she made a tortured face and no reply, he smiled yet again. "The sacrifice was as good as made, da'len. Believe you me."

"But then why..."

"Now I will not lie; there was something of a personal agenda in promoting you to Cassandra," Solas confessed. "You are precisely what I believe will be a refreshing change to Thedas. Even if not completely, then in partial amounts – baby steps, as I have told you. This world needs more ideals that are less...archaic in nature, if you will."

 _Is it my dislike of racism?_ she wondered, but decided not to drag the matter any further. It rubbed her the wrong way hearing all these justifications, as if they were just being fished from the air to cover her ass; not only that, but they served as further salt on today's wound. Clearing her throat of its sudden prickliness, she changed the subject by asking, "So what will we do today for magic practice, hahren? Meditation? Mana focus?"

Solas tapped his fingers together as a playful and knowing smile made its way across his face. "Let's go watch a movie."

* * *

 **A/N** : Had to go back and fix Ahnnie and Harding's exchange about funeral rites in Chapter 22 (#24 on dropdown list) after learning that Andrastian rites involve cremation rather than burial. I haven't seen anything that strikes burial off the list, but it is noted that cremation is symbolic of Andraste's burning & may be a preventive measure against demons possessing corpses. Also, "Bann" is synonymous for both male and female nobles, and I got "Worthship" from researching the style's etymology.


	34. Chapter 31

" _Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,_

 _Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring;_

 _Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun,_

 _Now the jingle hop has begun..._ "

Bobby Helms' lively rendition simply radiated Christmas spirit with each note. Its festive beat jingled in every corner of the mall, bouncing merrily through the spacious corridors fringed with evergreen garlands and wreaths, golden bells and holly berries, ornaments and Santa imagery–

" _Jingle_ _bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,_

 _Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time;_

 _Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square,_

 _In the frosty air!_ "

Georgia could hardly be considered a snowy state, but it did have its moments. The great blizzard of '14, for example, or the sudden snowfalls that peppered '10 and '11. Even so, winter made the air nippy, and Ahnnie felt it appropriate to wear a warm sweater though she and Solas had not yet stepped outside the Mall of Georgia. So she listened to his instructions and simply imagined–

"Wow," Ahnnie breathed as she held out her arms before her, now clothed in a soft knit wool of dark green. "This...this is amazing!" She looked down at the little reindeer embroidered over her torso and marveled at the precise lines of thread, perpetually criss-crossing. "It's all so... _real_!" Then she looked down at her trousers and boots, willing them to become patterned leggings and moccasins, and let out an uncharacteristically loud squeal of delight as they transformed. "Oh! Sorry," she apologized with a hand over her mouth. "I just...I just really love Christmas."

Solas smiled down upon her as he came forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "This is simply the beginning, da'len. The Fade holds countless possibilities."

She couldn't help but giggle. "You must have had a lot of fun at the mall," she teased. "All those times, without me..."

He acknowledged the remark with a sly smile and drifted past her to pause a few steps away, voice thoughtful. "It seems I am unfamiliar with this section. I don't suppose you know the way to the Regal cinema from here?"

Ahnnie's grin widened. "Of course," she smirked, and straightened up to take the lead. "Let's see, Macy's is over there," she gestured to their left. "Soooo...we just keep going straight until we come up to Old Navy. Come on, let's go!"

" _Giddy-up, jingle horse_

 _Pick up your feet,_

 _Jingle around the clock;_

 _Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet..._ "

She practically dragged him by the wrist as they weaved through the Christmas crowd, flitting past shop after brightly lit shop as Helm's tinny voice sang along to plucky electric accompaniments. They soon came up to JCPenney, just on the corner of Flair Boutique past GameStop. Old Navy was approximately four shops away, but as they reached the third shop, an idea suddenly came into her head and Ahnnie slowed to a stop in front of Abercrombie & Fitch.

Solas tilted his head in inquiry. "What is the matter?" he asked.

She beamed an eager smile at him from over her shoulder. "When in Rome!" she chirped in reply, and gestured for him to follow her inside the shop's dark interior. "Come on, you need to fit in more," she insisted when he seemed hesitant. "And what better way than with a little bit of shopping?"

The question marked their plunge into the shadowy, perfumed depths, the subdued lighting and electro music engulfing their senses in a seamless transition. Shapely torsos displayed their wares in tasteful combinations, flanked by shelves and tables and racks on which the garments lay folded or hung, beckoning for the searching touch of a human hand. Black-and-white models brooded suggestively at the pair from beyond their picture frames, lending to the atmosphere a certain sensuousness that seemed oddly fitting for Solas.

"I know _just_ the look for you," she assured him once they were well inside. "Just stay right there, and I'll be back in a second."

She returned with her catch in record time, having found everything she needed within convenient reach and quantity. Pushing Solas into a dressing room, she patiently waited while he changed and was simply ecstatic to find everything a perfect fit when he reemerged. Without much thought to regular shopping procedures, Ahnnie zipped to the checkout counter to pay for the items while he still wore them. An amused elf in a a black pea coat, taupe sweater, and dark jeans accompanied her, his neck swathed in a smoky frayed-end scarf.

The final amount was beyond anything Ahnnie ever imagined spending on an outing by herself, but she whipped a debit card out of thin air and presented it smugly to the preppy cashier at the register. "No need for a receipt," she declined, and strolled back out into the holiday cheer with Solas beside her.

"You can do _anything_ in the Fade," she gushed as they walked by Old Navy's expansive storefront and began a slight right turn into the food court. "If only I knew, when I was first stuck in it..."

"A Fade entered through dream is still a different Fade than the one you experienced," he reminded her. "It is far easier to shape it when dreaming than when physically inside it."

 _True..._ "But this isn't just a dream, is it, hahren? I've never dreamed anything so..." She took a deep sniff of the cinnamon-tinted air. "...vividly before."

He looked from her wistful expression to the source of the good smells. "Cinnabon does happen to be my favorite part of this mall," he confessed, and veered her past the Godiva Chocolatier they'd been walking alongside to the cozy, teal-themed cinnamon bun shop where the smell emanated from. "Two classic rolls," he ordered the moment they arrived at the counter, the first ones in line, too, and received both rolls in his hands, still warm and toasty from the oven. With his mouth already nibbling away at his roll, he handed the second one to her.

Ahnnie grasped the sheet of pastry parchment beneath her roll as sturdily as possible and sank her teeth into its ooey, gooey goodness. Such a rush of fragrant cinnamon and sweet, sweet glaze flooded her mouth that she almost choked as she greedily bit into more. She was halfway through when they reached the merry-go-round at the center of the food court and still working on it as they mounted the escalator nearby; by the time they crested the second floor, her roll was simply a strip of soft cinnamon pastry, which she savored by chewing slowly. As they stepped off, her hands were free to crumple the crumb-sticky parchment and throw it into a trashcan.

 _Score!_ she couldn't help but think as the parchment ball dropped into the black-bagged abyss. _I never thought I'd say this, but boy do I miss throwing away trash_ _..._ it satisfied her almost as much as the decadent cinnamon roll did.

But now an even greater amusement awaited her, for the cinema advertised itself with a red neon sign glowing enticingly to their left. Drawn like moths to a light, they strode for the ticket office beneath the sign, a screen of the available movies and showtimes flashing overhead while framed and lighted posters promoted the possible selections on the wall to their right.

"So, which movie do you want to see?" Ahnnie asked as they entered the line behind two other couples.

"What movie do _you_ want to see, da'len?" Solas asked her back. "Show me your taste."

"Um..." Ahnnie pursed her lips and looked at the posters. Some were filled, some were blank; amongst those filled were _The Conjuring 2_ , the live action _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ , _Swiss Army Man,_ _Alice Through the Looking Glass_ ; but she was interested in none of these. "Would you mind if we watched..." Her finger hovered over to a blank poster instead. "...that one?"

The empty whiteness slowly gained color and shape until it formed a theatrical portrait of a curly-haired Martin Freeman dressed in a burgundy overcoat and brandishing a shiny silver blade. _From the director of the Lord of the Rings trilogy,_ read the words above him, and below, in three-dimensional script, _The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey._

"It's the first in a trilogy about a world kind of like Thedas," she explained, "plus it's not that recent, so if it's not interesting enough..."

"Nonsense. It looks plenty interesting." Solas took a step forward as the line moved up. "Your favorite of the trilogy?" he guessed.

Ahnnie blushed as she moved alongside him. "Yes...I read the book in third grade and all the movies captured its spirit pretty well, but the first one really stands out in my opinion. Not as grave as the _Lord of the Rings_ movies for example, but not all fun and games, either; it's got the perfect balance of each, it's fun to watch, it's adventurous, and it's...it's..." She waved her hand in vague circles as she struggled to find the best adjective. "Heartwarming," she said at last. Then she frowned. "Does that make any sense?"

"It does," he assured her, "but why don't we let the movie speak for itself?"

For it was finally their turn, and as they stepped up to the counter, Ahnnie took it upon herself to buy the admission. "Two tickets for The Hobbit, please. The nearest showing." Which, conveniently again, was now.

But of course, what movie was complete without popcorn? After entering the theater lobby, Ahnnie didn't even need to ask Solas for permission to head for the concession stand. The buttery movie-going treat was a given, and the both of them settled in their seats with a large bucket of the stuff propped between them. All that was left now was to sit back and relax. They had managed to snag a good spot in a center row, the auditorium was sparsely filled, the lights were beginning to darken – it was about as ideal a theater setting as Ahnnie would have wished for.

And then the movie began. Ahnnie settled deeper into her seat and plopped in another piece of popcorn as the whimsical prologue scene commenced with an elderly Bilbo Baggins writing his account of the titular adventure. Eyes glued to the screen, she watched as though seeing for the first time the silly dinner scene in Bag End, the start of the journey across Eriador to the Lonely Mountain, the dangers and shenanigans in between...

And then, after Bilbo and the dwarves reached Rivendell, came her most favorite scene yet. Lady Galadriel, cloaked in sunlight beneath an elegant elven arch, asked Gandalf the Grey why? "Why the halfling?" And his answer, delivered with a touch of the Shire's flute theme:

"I have found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins?" Gandalf asked with a chuckle, the camera panning closer to his wizened face as he spoke. "Perhaps it is because I am afraid, and he gives me courage."

Those words never failed to make Ahnnie smile, and she remembered thinking of this very scene the moment she'd decided just what to name Cixi's second puppy. Well, it was either that or Radagast...but Bilbo was shorter and sounded much cuter, besides.

Then after the fiasco in the Goblin King's halls, after being cornered on a precipice by orcs and then rescued by giant eagles, Bilbo and co. looked forward to a sequel as they sighted the Lonely Mountain in the distance – and the movie ended.

Ahnnie stretched her arms as the credits began rolling and rose after Solas as Neil Finn's _Song of the Lonely Mountain_ played through the first few verses. After throwing away the popcorn bucket, she eagerly came up beside him and asked, "So what did you think? Was it good, or was it...?"

"It was heartwarming," Solas answered much to her delight, and he chuckled. "A rather...adorable adventure – which is not a description I'd think of applying to a company of hairy dwarves. Peter Jackson is a decent director."

"Sorry if there was some stuff you didn't get, though," she apologized. "Lady Galadriel and Saruman weren't supposed to appear in Rivendell, for one...Radagast too for that matter and...hmm...I don't think Frodo was in the prologue of the book, either. I think Peter Jackson intended for _The Hobbit_ movies to act as a prequel to _The Lord of the Rings_ , rather than a standalone."

He dismissed the matter with a nonchalant wave. "I can always catch up later. As always, movies are an interesting look into how Earthen humans think..."

They emerged into the theater lobby and sat down on a bench to talk. "Well, that is true," Ahnnie admitted. "They're expressions of culture as much as art and music." She gave him a curious glance as she remembered their first talk of movies in the Fade. "So let me guess; horror flicks intrigue you the most?"

"For a people who have no Fade, I had to see what they considered an alternative," he said with a smile. "Books here are a spotty source...I cannot read the languages, for one. Some of them appear fuzzed by memory as well. But movies; movies are vivid. They take the effort of forming images from the reader to the director who has arranged all aspects of the story. Where people may forget words printed on paper, the moving pictures they see onscreen become imprinted in their minds as freshly as if witnessing the events for themselves...movies may be considered more entertaining than informational, but there is something to be said of their execution, exaggerated or no. They are more than just performed acts of script – movies are an extraordinary medium of expression, the likes of which I have never seen before."

 _Wow...that's...deep._ She had never considered movies in such a light before. To her, at least before coming to Thedas, they had always seemed just a part of daily life. As always, Solas never failed to awe her with his perspectives. _Wait till he sees a documentary...or even a YouTube video!_ Could she access the Internet in the Fade? _Maybe not...everything here seems to be as I remember it than in the now. I'd probably access an archived page rather than a current one_ – but that was fine, too. Now if only she could conjure up a smartphone...

"And from what I have observed, despite initial appearances, our worlds are not so different from each other after all."

Ahnnie perked up at that. "How so?"

Solas adjusted his scarf before crossing his arms contemplatively over his chest. "Do you remember, for one, the similarity of certain cultures? Religions and beliefs?"

"Well, yeah, we talked about it before."

"And the rise and fall of certain civilizations..."

"I mean, I'm no history expert, but...yeah."

"One side scientifically advanced but magically lacking; the other, magically advanced but scientifically lacking – but that they should share even _languages_ to a startling degree of uniformity...?" He let out a breathy sigh. "It is a curious coincidence; they are similar in many aspects, yet different at the same time. It is almost as if something _links_ the both of them while they run their own courses independent of each other..."

"Huh." Ahnnie blinked. "That sounds a lot like yin yang." When he turned quizzically to her, she explained, "It's a Chinese philosophy that believes in interlocking dualities; like, opposites, sort of. It literally means 'dark-bright'. From what I read, rather than opposing each other, what we think of as contrary forces actually interrelate – they interact dynamically to create a whole greater than the sum of its parts – if that makes any sense."

"Yes, yes it does," Solas nodded as he sat up straighter, intrigued. "Perhaps we are onto something?"

Ahnnie arched an eyebrow. "Like...parallels?"

"That's one way to go about it."

She could see the viability in that. "But it all still seems so vague. It just sounds like we're throwing ideas together with no definite purpose..."

Solas laughed. "That is what philosophers have been doing since the beginning of time, da'len. Don't be quick to discount aimless thinking; you never know what may arise from–"

The sudden clang of a bell vibrated through the air, cutting him off. A tremor passing through the ground shortly afterwards caused Ahnnie to clench the edges of her seat. "Solas?" she asked confusedly, eyes widening with fright. "What's going on?"

The elf beside her was as serene as could be. "A disturbance from the waking world," he explained, "marking the passage of another hour...and the end of our little Fade outing." He rose unflinchingly from the bench despite what felt like an earthquake and held out a hand for her. "We must wake up now, but we shall continue this at a later time."

Ahnnie tried standing from the bench, but fell back on her bum as another bell rang and the tremors increased. She slapped a hand into Solas' palm regardless and felt the reassuring strength of his pull sweeping her off her feet, dragging her through the collapsing ruins of her – _their_ dream, the crowded mall melting away like paint splashed by water from an easel and into a world of abstract color, neither this nor that. In a reverse of their beginning journey, she passed from a state of accentuated awareness back into the lulling realm of unconsciousness that most dreams originated from; the dreams of ordinary, Fade-ignorant folk...the safest part of the Fade, as Solas had called it.

But even that was short-lived. As yet another bell rang, the blissful oblivion crumbled away and Ahnnie slowly opened her eyes to find herself back in the cozily lit rotunda. Rubbing those eyes, she rose her head from the couch and spied the wooden scaffold with its blue lantern glowing comfortingly across from her. Atop its platform, painting as if nothing had happened, was the familiar slim figure of Solas.

Not wishing to disturb his work, she slipped off the couch and began her drowsy way back to her quarters. But before she fully exited the rotunda, she chanced a peep over her shoulder at the fresco, noticing the extra details since painted on it and the sturdy, un-tired face of its artist. He caught her staring and aimed a sidelong smile plus wink her way, which she couldn't help but return through the fog of her languor.

* * *

 _Meet me at the gates after polearms. We will train outside the fortress today._

Ahnnie smiled down at the little note and tucked it between two pages in her journal, which in turn was tucked away into a drawer. No sense in letting anyone see such a note lying flat on her desk, now was there? She'd thought something was up when a servant brought in a bundle of drawing paper from the rotunda and the tiny strip of paper fluttered out as she unrolled the sheets. Solas helping her with magic was no secret, per se, as it was generally understood that he was willing to help with anything Anchor-related; his methods, however, were still viewed as unconventional, and such help was not widely known as "training".

She managed to get some initial sketching done before the bells signaled her daily lesson with Hargrave. Even when being schooled by the tough corporal, though, her mind seemed to wander. What did Solas have in store for her today? This was the first time in a long time that they had any chance to be alone for as long as the dream escapade; not since the early days in Haven, and especially not with all the traveling they'd done in the month prior to sealing the Breach. The moment she was free, she jogged straight for the gate, not willing to waste any time rushing back and forth from the training grounds to her quarters.

"Solas!" Ahnnie hailed as she spotted the bald elf by the gatehouse; a pack was slung over his shoulder and in his hands, rather than his staff, was a walking stick. She trotted over to him and pointed at the stick. "What's up with that?"

"We're going on a walk, of course," he answered matter-of-factly. "It's such a nice day for a walk. Wouldn't you agree, Inquisitor?"

"Oh...yeah! It's really good weather."

They kept up the small talk until they were finally off the bridge and hiking down a recently cut path. It felt strange being surrounded by nothing more than rocks and trees after weeks of castle life, so for a while Ahnnie was silent as she contemplated the nature around her. Then, looking over at Solas' shadow dappled face, did she remember what she had wanted to ask. "What are we going out here for, if you don't mind?"

"An exercise for you to try," he replied. "Something a little more hands-on."

"'Hands-on'?" she echoed. "Was that a pun?"

He chuckled. "You made it into one. But if you insist..." He paused to part a branch from his face, then said, "You will have noticed the Anchor's other capabilities. When you try tapping into your mana, as you have told me, there is only one place to which it goes. You haven't managed to move it elsewhere, have you? I thought not," he remarked when she shook her head. "And when you use your Anchor independent of the rifts, this gives you trouble in withdrawing mana from the mark. We shall see what we can do to remedy that, among other things."

No wonder they were going in secret, then. If they attempted this practice at Skyhold, people would be sure to notice; they would be frightened by an unprovoked Anchor, especially if she didn't yet have it under her control and it did something unexpected. Tongues would also wag if Solas appeared to have had a hand in it. Just as Ahnnie was in the process of digesting that information, however, Solas suddenly took them off the manmade path and onto a thin deer track through the undergrowth instead. She quickened her pace to catch up with the nimble elf, wondering just how far was far enough for him.

They stopped several minutes later at a rocky little clearing. Solas laid his walking stick and pack against the trunk of a nearby tree, and gestured for Ahnnie to do the same with her glaive. Once that was done, he asked her, "Do you still remember the exercises I taught you?"

"I believe so."

"Good. Start on them and think of putting power into the Anchor."

Ahnnie nodded and closed her eyes. Then she slowed her breathing in an attempt to still her body; faced with no life-threatening exigencies, her mana took its sweet time in answering her summons. She was unable to tell exactly how much time was passing, but it seemed to be quite a bit in her half suspended state. Eventually, it did come; after the little, tingling awakening, she willed the spark to shift into her left palm and was not surprised to feel magic racing through her veins as the Anchor siphoned it greedily.

Ahnnie gasped awake and slapped her other hand over her flaring one's wrist, startled as always by the Anchor's electric ecstasy. "Now what?" she yelled to Solas over the crackling.

"You must cancel it," he yelled back.

"But how? I can't do it on my own!"

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again. "About that; there is actually something to which I must confess."

"What?"

"That time in the Crossroads, in the fight with the archer – I did nothing to calm your mark. It was actually of your own doing."

Either she was going deaf, or the flares were making her hear things. "That's not true! You, you cast spells–"

"Those words I spoke?" he asked. "Nothing more than Elvish endearments. The point is, da'len, it's all in how you _feel_. You may not achieve full control, but you can certainly manage the Anchor's responses to mana. It is like physical pain; the more you worry about it, the more you can feel it, but distract yourself and then the pain becomes tolerable, if not alleviated."

 _That's not the most helpful analogy, here,_ Ahnnie lamented. "So what you're saying is...I should just calm down?"

"Precisely! In fact, this should serve as a good desensitization exercise." Solas folded his hands behind his back and paced about her. "Fear your magic less, and it shall not feel so beyond your grasp. A good lesson to apply to other aspects of your life, if you will notice."

She watched him as he passed by her line of vision and then focused back on the sputtering Anchor. "If he says so," she murmured to herself, "then it's worth a shot..." She fixed her gaze on the bright green flares, willing herself not to flinch at every startling pop, hiss, or squeal. She figured if she faced the thing head-on, the electric crackles would eventually grow redundant. _It hasn't hurt me yet,_ she recalled, _and it only felt like hell when it was expanding or aggravated by Corypheus. I don't even think it_ is _electricity..._ She took a deep breath and made an equally deep exhalation. _It just feels a little tingly and vibrate-y...now it's a little ticklish,_ she remarked, and wiggled her fingers to stir some feeling back in. _Hm, I never held it still for that long before..._

To her pleasant surprise, the Anchor appeared to grow slightly less frenzied. And as she felt that pleasant surprise, the flares lowered down another notch. It was as if...as if the Anchor fluctuated in response to the intensity of her emotions – _so, kind of like biofeedback! Sweet!_ She looked up at Solas with a grin on her face. "It's working!" she boasted.

"I can see that," he acknowledged. "However, you still haven't canceled the mark."

"Oh, right..."

"Think about what _has_ worked in accomplishing that," Solas suggested. "When we were at the Crossroads, or whenever you closed rifts, even. What is a common factor that was present in each of these times?"

She pursed her lips in thought. _The first time it happened in Haven, I broke my mana concentration...no way I can do that now, since I'm pretty focused on it. At the Crossroads...I don't know what I did. Maybe it was the fact that Solas made me feel safe again? Then when rifts are closed, isn't that because the Anchor's found a target that it's...resolved, in a way? Is that it? A resolution?_ If that were so, then living targets did not seem to provide that resolution (as she had the misfortune of finding out). So how, exactly, had the Anchor ever been "resolved" without a rift?

She tried closing her eyes and breathing deeply while thinking of warm and safe things in an attempt to replicate that time with the dead archer. The Anchor then felt a little more subdued in response, but was still very much alive. She tried willing herself to withdraw some mana back inside her, but the Anchor held steadfast in its grab for power. _Well, what if I do a bit of the opposite, since none of these seem to work?_ she wondered idly.

Ahnnie knew she would regret it the moment she thought it out. The mark suddenly intensified as it drew on the offered wealth of mana, crackling and spitting with an even greater urgency than before, and the unintended result threw her newly cultivated confidence off balance. "U-um," she stuttered, "Solas? I don't think it's..."

"Did you put more mana into it?" he asked, and then frowned. "Whatever you do, _don't_ panic–"

He should have known her well enough by now to realize she would do just that. With a tightened grip over her left wrist, Ahnnie's mind went wild trying to find a way to stop the flares. She was already seeing the many ways it would go wrong in her mind's eye, and as the Anchor slipped farther out of her control, these fears only seemed to be further confirmed.

And then the magic began to break from the mark.

"Whoa!" Ahnnie shouted as a beam of green light shot from her palm. Her head flinched away and her eyes closed upon instinct, then her feet danced in a nervous hop-step backwards...the result was a tumultuous stumble against a rock that struck her heel. Crashing onto her back, the beam broke on impact and her hands went spread-eagled in an attempt to diminish the shock. It was only half-successful and her spine took the brunt of the fall against several low-lying rocks. _Ow..._

"Telamdys!" Solas rushed to her side, lifting her upper body with a supporting arm across her back. "Ahnnie! Are you all right?"

She opened her eyes and blinked through the spots of light and darkness dancing across her vision. Even in her disoriented state, though, she did not fail to miss the small rift opening in the middle of the clearing, sucking in whatever happened to be beneath it. It sent up a rush of air in its swirling, flirting through the flaps of Solas' tunic and strands of her hair as if vying futilely to bring them under its grasp. "Solas," she gasped, gripping his arm with her right hand. "What...!?"

He followed her frightened gaze to the little rift and then looked back at her. "That is...interesting. I'd forgotten about this. You remember the rift I had you open to trap Envy?"

"So...that's...?" She turned her marked palm upwards and stared at the Anchor in awe.

Solas nodded. "Now can you stand? We'll have to close it–"

But the rift disappeared as suddenly as she had called it into existence. As if in satisfaction of the forest debris it managed to pilfer, the rift collapsed in on itself until it, too, was sucked into the void, and the clearing returned to normal. Nothing was left behind to signal a rift had ever been there, not even the tiniest mark.

"–or not." Solas smiled at her. "But I think you have had enough magic practice for today. Can you sit up?" As she rose along to his gentle push, he took note of the Anchor. "Ah, it's still activated. Let me see what I can do to help. If you would hold still, please."

"O...kay..."

"Ahnnie? You don't sound well." When she didn't respond, he looked back up at her. "Ahnnie? Ahn – oh, fenedhis!" He reached out just as her body swayed and caught her squarely across both arms.

* * *

Ahnnie looked around at the swirling nothingness about her before facing the bald elf who had brought her here. "I fainted, didn't I?" she asked glumly.

"An irregular influx of mana was going through your body," Solas pointed out, "and you applied an inordinate amount of it to the Anchor. Not a surprising reaction, given the circumstances."

She looked down at her left hand, or at least the dream projection of it. "Is it still...?"

"The Anchor is at rest," he assured her. "When you fell unconscious, the flow of mana was disrupted; which is one way to solve your problem, at the very least. Just not one that can be regularly applied..."

 _Huh._ "So, what are we doing here?" she wondered aloud, kicking idly at a pebble she conjured from the nothingness. "Are we still having a lesson, or...?"

Solas shrugged. "We will do whatever you feel like doing, da'len. Exploring the Fade was not what I originally intended to do today, but an exception can be made. Or if you would prefer to rest as usual, then that is fine too."

Ahnnie thought on that for a second, tapping and tracing her foot against the miasmal ground as she did so. "I want to eat some phở," she said at last. "I'm starving."

Solas let out a laugh. "All right then – but I'm afraid you will still be starving when you wake up."

"I know. I was just craving it." She began to envision the place she wanted to go, and remarked, "I know a really good restaurant along Buford Highway. They've got some decent boba smoothies too."

"Phở is a Vietnamese dish?" he guessed.

"Yup."

"Then why settle for phở in Georgia when you can have it at its birthplace?"

"Well, that's because–" But then she paused when she realized he wasn't talking about a rival restaurant in the same area. "Wait, you mean...Vietnam?"

"Why not?" he countered. "I _did_ tell you that more than just your dreams and memories were brought to the Fade; it is the essence around you as well. And where was it that many of your family members spent a majority of their lives...?"

Her eyes brightened and her smile grew wider. "You are _brilliant_ , hahren, just brilliant! Also, we are totally going to Egypt next time. One of my uncles went there for a business trip and he got to tour the Valley of the Kings."

"Egypt it will be, then," Solas nodded. "I should like to see the pyramids in person."

 _Amen to that!_ But she would delight in it later. For now, she focused long and hard on what made Vietnam...well, Vietnam. A key to attempting such travel in the Fade – if daydreaming in place could be considered traveling – was to think of the ethos of the destination, the feelings it evoked, its character. Especially since she had never been to the country physically, her feelings would be paramount in constructing the dream scenario. Luckily, photographs and movies will have helped to fill in the blanks, as well as contributions from the memories of the people linked to her...

She did not realize her eyes were closed until the grassy fragrance of moist nature wafted across her nose. Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal a vast field of dusky golden stalks shimmering in the breeze like waves in a whispering sea. Breaking the surface were pale yellow, conical points, bobbing in time to the rise and fall of sickles. Voices called out to each other in between intervals, voices she knew and understood. Out in the distance, star-shaped palm and banana trees fringed the blue horizon like a leafy picture frame and a lazy stream cut across the landscape. A brown-garbed figure carrying two baskets on a shoulder pole appeared against that frame a moment later and lowered their cargo on the elevated path beside the field. In response, the voices now called to each other for a well-deserved lunch break.

Before Ahnnie could say anything, the lowing of a large animal startled her from behind and she jumped aside to let it pass. The sun-browned boy sitting atop the water buffalo poked fun at her skittishness before turning back to his job of steering the other two buffaloes with him down the path, trundling more or less in single file through the narrowly raised dirt. Ahnnie stepped back onto the path as soon as the last buffalo was well past her, staring in awe after their large grey backsides.

To anyone watching, the plain garb of the people around them would seem simplistic sets of long button-up shirts and pants. Combined with the conical hats, they might even seem alien. But to Ahnnie, these things were familiar raiments, symbolic of songs and stories and nostalgia: the _á_ _o bà ba_ and _nón lá_ of the Southern Vietnamese countryside.

"I must be dreaming," she murmured to herself with a hand over her mouth. "No, wait, I _am_ dreaming..."

"Indeed you are, da'len," Solas agreed, reaching down to pluck the tips of the stalks closest to their path. "Though I'm not quite sure this is where you intended to have phở."

"Oh!" She slapped her forehead. "Haha! I'm so silly – I heard a lot about the countryside growing up, you know? It's a heavily romanticized part of the culture, plus my dad grew up there. Well, his family was originally from the North, but they moved South when he was a toddler after the Northern government turned Communist. My mom, though, is from Saigon...or I guess, Hồ Chí Minh City now."

"Really?" Solas rubbed the grainy bulbs of rice between his fingers as he rose. "What an interesting history. So not only are you a child of the tropic sun and fields, but of the busy streets and avenues as well?"

"Don't you mean my parents?" she joked with a laugh. "I'm more of a child of the white stars and red stripes. And you forgot 'a dash of French architecture' in between 'streets and avenues'...but enough on that. Let's focus on getting to the city now."

Ahnnie turned down the path in the water buffaloes' line of travel and strode through the tracks churned into the dirt, walking confidently as if the city should be right around the corner. Solas followed her amusedly and voiced that opinion, to which she explained with a rather sheepish expression.

"That was how I switched through places in that time with Envy. Since we were in my memories, that would mean we were in the Fade to some extent, so I figured the same mechanism might apply in a dream..."

"An insightful observation," Solas praised. "And yes, it will work, so long as you believe."

She was glad to hear that as they came to a crossroads heavily fringed by long and wavy banana fronds. Ahnnie parted a section of the fronds and cut through a corner of the path to shove herself between two of the banana trees. Solas followed suit, and when they emerged on the other side, they found themselves facing a busy road in a bright little city, criss-crossed left and right with blurring traffic. Motorbikes and automobiles shared the asphalt indiscriminately, as well as a penchant for speeding.

"See, told you," Ahnnie said as she pointed to the facade of a brown gothic cathedral directly ahead of them. "Nhà Thờ Đức Bà Sài Gòn, or the Notre Dame Cathedral of Saigon. And right next to it is the Central Post Office." To their right, just across the street, was a large pinkish-white building with orange slate roofing featuring exquisite molding and bell arch windows. "Looks pretty Orlesian to you, doesn't it?"

"Indeed," he acknowledged. "Especially that face carved over the transom."

"There's several buildings like that scattered across Saigon built during the French occupation," Ahnnie explained. "There's old Vietnamese stuff too, like the Vĩnh Nghiêm Pagoda, but for the most part the city's built in a...it's a little hard to explain, but it's a kind of universal sort of structure on Earth that everyone calls 'modernized', just square-ish buildings and telephone lines..." She shook her head. "You'll understand better once you see more of it."

She considered walking to do so, but thought of a better idea when she noticed a couple of motorbike drivers seemingly lounging on their vehicles by the curb with nothing to do. Ahnnie immediately jogged over to them and asked, "Dạ, hai bác là tài xế xe ôm ạ?"

They nodded in unison and asked her if she needed their assistance; she nodded back in affirmative and gestured at both her and Solas. When the curious elf came over, she explained to him that they would be hiring xe ôm, or motorbike taxis, to take them where they needed to go. "It's much safer than walking through the traffic," she added, "which, in Saigon, has no rules."

Solas raised an eyebrow at this and watched her climb behind one of the motorbike drivers. He settled himself carefully behind the other one afterwards, and while she secured a helmet over her head, Ahnnie got down to the business of their destination: "Hai bác biết tiệm phở nào ngon nhất tại Sài Gòn?" _W_ _hat's the best place for phở in Saigon?_

"Phở hả?" her driver asked. "Chắc...nếu phải nói thì chắc là Phở Hòa Pasteur."

"Vậy thì cho cháu xin tới đó."

"Ông tây này theo luôn?" Solas' driver asked, jabbing a calloused thumb back at his elven passenger.

Ahnnie fought the urge to giggle at the thought of Solas being labeled "westerner" and nodded. Her driver then said, "Trăm ngàn cho hai người, nhe cháu."

 _100,000_ _đồng for two?_ Ahnnie pursed her lips as she tried to remember that would amount to in dollars, or if it was even a fair price. Remembering this was the Fade, however, she quickly nodded back. "Dạ được."

They set off after Solas was given his helmet. Starting out right from the street before the cathedral, the motorbikes sped left and offered them a more expansive side view of the religious building. Ahnnie's eyes widened as she zipped by the intricately detailed side transept, followed by the rounded radial chapels circling the ambulatory. _Wow! I never saw that part of the cathedral before!_ She couldn't take her eyes off even after the motorbikes made another left behind the cathedral to pass down an avenue of trees, enchanted as she was by the charming new angles, and swiveled her head back only when the tall bell towers disappeared behind the leaves.

They turned right at the next junction onto a street labeled "Pasteur". From then on, it was a continuous ride, zipping past fellow vehicles, pedestrians, and the city around them at an alarming speed. Ahnnie held her driver's waist a little tighter as she stared at the blocky, crowded buildings, reminiscent to her of a small-scale Chinatown. _What does Solas think of it?_ she wondered. _Obviously not as pretty as the cathedral and post office..._ but, in a way, it possessed its own urban charm. Funny how something she'd only seen in pictures and used to judge as trashy could feel so different, almost endearing, in person.

They finally arrived at their destination, an unassuming little space along a strip of shops with a granite storefront labeled "Phở Hòa" in both Vietnamese and Chinese in gold lettering. "Pasteur" sat to the other side in bright red, isolated from the gold by the line of Chinese characters.

Ahnnie and Solas disembarked by the curb, and the girl paid their drivers with a crisp 100,000₫ bill she fished from her tunic's pocket. Going past the hot and cold food displays sitting out by the entrance, Ahnnie and Solas finally entered the restaurant. There were no doors, but two rectangular openings fitted with folding gates on either side. A waiter in khakis and flipflops added to the casual yet cozy ambience of the interior, small though it was, and seated them at a table for two along a wall. Even if he did not produce a menu, they could still view the selections taped on the wall behind the counter and plastered about the two columns in the center.

"Hahren, you have not lived until you've tried cà phê sữa đá," she said the moment the waiter asked for their drinks. "Trust me, it's _so_ good! If you don't like it, I swear I'll get you another drink and pay for your meal."

Solas chuckled. "Very well; I put my trust in you."

"Cho hai ly cà phê sữa đá," she then ordered, and the waiter left. Solas took the opportunity in the meantime to glance over the menu, helpfully labeled with pictures of the fare above their names. He was looking at the different types of phở in particular, and even though there were also English labels, Ahnnie knew he couldn't read them well and took it upon herself to be helpful. "To be honest, hahren, you look more of a phở gà kind of guy," she said, pointing to the bowl of chicken phở. "But phở tái is pretty good too, and so is phở gân and bò viên." Her finger went over the bowls of sliced rare beef, tendon, and meatballs. "You could order any combination of the cuts actually, but if you want to try everything, you should get the phở đặc biệt."

"So that is how phở is served?" he mused. "A base of broth and rice noodles, then your choice of meat? And is it mostly with beef?"

"The soup's made from beef, so yeah," she said with a shrug. "Some places nowadays add different variations, like shrimp or tofu...I know it's a lot to process at first. If you're confused about anything, I'd be glad to help."

He nodded thoughtfully before sliding the menu away. "In that case, I shall try a little bit of everything. How would I place that order?"

Ahnnie thought on that for a moment. "Quantity, object, adjective," she said at last. "So - một tô phở đặc biệt. Literally, 'one bowl phở special'. Depending on what size you want, you'd add 'thường' or 'lớn' to the end, since those're what this restaurant has; regular or large. But the identity of the dish is a given, so I would say một tô đặc biệt makes more sense."

"There are no plural nouns or equivalent to 'of'?"

"Now that you mentioned it, no. Nouns have to have numbers or quantifiers before them. And in a possessive case, 'của' goes in between the object and possessor, but sometimes it'll be omitted for convenience. It's kind of like how people don't say 'the book of the girl' all the time, I guess."

Solas nodded thoughtfully. At that same moment, the waiter returned with their cups of iced coffee. Ahnnie immediately descended upon hers, swirling the ice and thick, creamy coffee with her straw before taking a long undue sip. She relished the bittersweet bite at the back of her tongue, and then looked up as the waiter began asking for their orders.

"Một tô đặc biệt thường," Solas interjected before she could speak, and the waiter was slightly taken aback by the westerner's almost fluent command of the tones.

"Một tô tái sách thường," Ahnnie put in a moment later, recapturing the waiter's attention.

"Tái sách?" Solas inquired after he departed for the kitchen. "What would that be?"

"Sliced rare beef and tripe," she explained. "I always get that."

A dish of fresh herbs arrived first, which Ahnnie pointed out as Thai basil, culantro, beansprouts, and two wedges of lime to taste. They served as garnishes for the phở that could be added according to preference. That made her remember there was a variety of sauces on the table such as the dark hoisin sauce, red Sriracha sauce, and hot chili paste, which she also explained could be mixed in or kept on a sauce dish for dipping meat.

And then came the moment of truth. Two steaming hot bowls of phở arrived at the table not longer than ten minutes after the garnishes, one with slices of pink meat and white tripe laid over the noodles, the other with an assortment heaped about. Ahnnie thought she might have to show Solas how to manipulate chospticks, but he assured her he had already learned from trying out sushi at the mall. _I wonder just how much of Earth he's witnessed?_ she thought as she squeezed some lime over everything and tucked in, first taking a sip of the savory broth, then a bite of the soft noodles. A moment later she crunched through the springy tripe and lifted a slice of rare beef from the top, still fresh and pink, and slid it onto her tongue.

Ahnnie watched Solas carefully over the lip of her bowl, noting the almost delicate way with which he sampled the different meats – flank, brisket, tendon, meatball...like her, he opted to leave sauces out of the soup, but tested them out anyway by skimming some meat over them before plopping it on a bed of noodles in his spoon. He was methodical and deliberate in his movements, and she swore she even heard some nosy restaurant-goer remark, "By god, that foreigner eats like a cat!"

Once they were halfway through did she dare to ask the inevitable. "So, hahren...what do you think?"

Solas paused to finish chewing before he answered her. "It is certainly new," he began. "I think I taste star anise and cloves in the broth...maybe a hint of cinnamon? Combined with the beef stock, it is a most innovative balance of flavor. The meat is cooked well and steeped in flavor from the broth, but I think I prefer the tendon overall."

She couldn't help the warmth spreading through her cheeks, and not just from the soup steam. "And the coffee?" she added whilst struggling to suppress a widening smile.

Solas stirred his glass and smiled in amusement at her. "I won't be needing another drink," he answered cryptically, and took a little sip. "It is a bit strong, though," he added with a slight cough.

But as all good things must be, their meal soon came to an end. Ahnnie reluctantly watched the noodles and meat in her bowl disappear until there was nothing but clouded brown broth left over. Solas left more leftovers, mainly because he had been here to sample rather than eat. Regardless, the phở certainly hit the spot, and dream or no dream her stomach felt satisfied. She sat back in her chair and drained the last of her coffee, slurping it up until there was no more.

Solas merely twirled his drink with a straw, and Ahnnie did not notice the pensive frown on his features until he spoke up. "I understand the Fade is a poor substitute for the real experience–"

Ahnnie raised a brow when he didn't continue. "The Fade is much better than the most advanced virtual reality technology to date," she countered. "I couldn't ask for anything better."

"I know," he said quietly. "Still. It feels...inadequate, given what you've lost."

"What...is that still bothering you? Hahren, don't worry, I'm perfectly fine."

Solas smiled up at her and shook his head. "Forgive me, I simply thought...well, it just felt necessary to say."

"Hey, it's totally fine," she assured him yet again. "You shouldn't have to feel bad about it. I mean, what could you do? You couldn't have known that I was going to come over here. Even if you did, we'd risk both our lives trying to navigate the Fade physically. You know a lot about the Fade hahren, I'm sure you do; but just because you don't know enough about it to help me doesn't mean you're a failure. Or whatever it is you're thinking."

He slid a weary hand over his face and heaved out a long sigh. "You'll never know how much it means to hear you say that," he breathed, almost whispered, but before Ahnnie could respond to it he smiled and rose from his seat. "I'm going to use the restroom for a bit. Wait here and get the check, if you can."

"Huh? Okay..." She couldn't help but wonder if her words truly had any effect, though, or if he was just saying that. Then she eyed the quarter-full glass of cà phê sữa đá Solas had left behind. _Is he still drinking that? Does he still want it, or...?_

A sleek red blouse slid into Solas' empty chair in between these thoughts, jarring her vision and composure. With a start, Ahnnie perked up and faced the blouse's owner, a suave young man with slicked-back hair and shifty eyes; a pair of dark sunglasses sat tucked in the middle of his collar, which was flared open by a button or two.

"Chào em," he greeted, his voice a blend of sultry brazenness. "Sao lẽ loi vậy? Bộ em tới đây một mình hả?" _Hey babe. Why so lonely? Did you come here alone?_

Ahnnie stared at him awhile in shock, taken aback by his openly flirtatious manner. Was this supposed to be a part of the Fade scene? She was able to interact with people, but no one had approached her yet. Eventually she composed herself enough to shake her head. "Dạ không. Em tới đây với..." She paused a moment, wondering what to call Solas. It felt weird calling him chú, as it might imply blood relations if used possessively. Then she thought of the perfect answer: "...sư phụ em." _I'm here with m_ _y sifu._

"Oh! Sư phụ!" His eyes widened in faux amazement. "Chà! Chắc em giỏi võ lắm phải không?" _You must be a skilled martial artist, eh?_ "Anh cũng biết võ vậy. Em biết võ gì không?" _I know martial arts too; know what kind?_

 _What is this guy..._ Ahnnie flitted her eyes here and there in search of Solas, but he was apparently still in the bathroom. "Võ gì?" she decided to ask, hoping the young man would stop after she'd played along far enough.

"Thì là võ ba chọ đó. Nổi tiếng lắm." _Ba chọ_. _It's real famous._

Her face twisted into further confusion. The name was not only weird, but a strange arrangement of vowels that held no sensible meaning whatsoever. "Ba chọ là cái gì vậy?" she asked incredulously.

"Bộ em không biết à?" _D_ _on't you know?_

"Không..." _No..._

 _"_ Không biết thật?" _You really don't know?_

"Đã nói là không mà..." _I already said no..._

The young man's smile turned into a smirk as he blurted out, "Tức là _bỏ chạy_!" _The martial art of_ running away _!_

And now it dawned upon her. He had made use of the typical Vietnamese pun joke of switching the vowels and tones between two words. She'd heard more clever use of it than this, though. Ra máu, rau má – loosing blood, pennywort juice; đá banh, đánh ba – soccer, hitting dad. _And why would he even joke about doing something like 'running away' while calling me a martial artist?_ Vietnamese guys, as she had heard, possessed more bravado than that.

"She doesn't look all that impressed, if you ask me."

Ahnnie gave yet another start and whirled around in her seat. "Hahren!" she exclaimed in relief. _Finally, I'm rescued!_

The young man, on the other hand, was not so happy. His face was already twisting into a deep scowl, marring his otherwise slick features. Solas merely smiled back, an amused, thin-lipped smile, and began to say something Elvish under his breath. The young man shot up from his seat and threw his hands into the air. "All right, all right!" he suddenly exclaimed in Common. "I am leaving, elf!"

"Then what are you waiting for?" Solas retorted. "I want you gone. _Now_."

The young man huffed and began to storm out of the restaurant. "If you don't want your precious charge falling into trouble, then maybe you shouldn't have left her so vulnerable in the first place!" he spat, and then finally disappeared around the corner. His voice, Ahnnie noticed, devolved from sultry to coarse; almost primal.

"What on earth was that?" Ahnnie asked after a moment of shocked silence.

"You met a demon," Solas explained, to which Ahnnie jumped up from her seat. "A desire demon, to be exact."

"A desire demon!? Aren't those high on the Brahm's Scale?"

"Even the Chantry admits not all demons can be ranked equally on that spectrum," Solas countered. "Desire demons can be powerful, but it also depends on the individual demon and what aspect of their designated emotions they focus on. For example, that demon was focused on lust – a desire demon focused on a more complex desire would be stronger."

"Oh..."

"That is not to say someone lustful wouldn't have fallen for the deceit, however. What such people as Madame Vivienne won't tell you, is that the probability of being affected by a certain demon depends on the victim's personality as well as the demon's power. Whereas they may have lost their heads over seeing you simply talking with that demon, I was perfectly certain that nothing would come of it, even when I'd noticed it watching you while we ate."

Ahnnie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You...let him talk to me on purpose?"

"Da'len, I don't mean anything by this, but because of certain things you are not easily tempted by lust, now are you?" When she was silent, he continued, "But consider why Envy almost succeeded in possessing you, and your suicidal thoughts when near a despair demon. This information is key to building a defense against demonic possession; and it becomes even more essential when literally anything you encounter in the Fade is a spirit or demon in disguise."

"So all these people here..." She gestured at the little restaurant. "The xe ôm drivers..."

"And even inanimate objects," Solas added.

She slapped a horrified hand over her mouth. _Oh...gross! I ate a spirit!_

"That is not necessarily so," Solas explained with a laugh. "But a possibility. Spirits emulate what they see in the minds of dreamers, da'len. They are very intrigued with the waking world. Many have a strong desire to experience life as we know it...if you can, I suggest you read the _Comprehensive Study on Denizens of the Fade_ by Senior Enchanter Rhys of the White Spire. It will give you a better idea of what I'm talking about for our next lesson. For now, I shall take you back to Skyhold for some real food."

Ahnnie eagerly followed him outside at that, and thought perhaps that a little space of time between now and their next Fade trip wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

 **A/N** : Shout out to fellow residents of OTP east Atlanta, especially if you traverse the Buford area! I placed Cinnabon at the corner of the food court rather than JCPenny, as it only moved to that location 4 months after this fic was meant to start (that is, July 2016). Plus I added a teeny little bit to Cole's part in Chapter 16 (#18) 'cause I reread it and thought it sounded too Sue-ish at the end.

– Viet notes –

 _Disclaimer: The Saigon/HCM city Solas and Ahnnie experienced may not be 100% accurate and is not the Saigon of today._ I would put it generally between the early 90's to 2000's, just to be on the safe side. The city today is far more industrialized and, well, different. Maybe go and see for yourself sometime ;).

Hiring xe ôm

D vs. Đ: In Vietnamese, D on its own has a "y" sound (if Southern) or "z" sound (if Northern). Đ indicates the hard "d" sound.

Central Post Office is described here as light-pinkish; today it's a bright yellow after a recent paint job.

"Hai bác biết tiệm phở nào ngon nhất tại Sài Gòn?" roughly translates to "Do you two know the best phở shop in Saigon?" I omitted "Do you two" because it sounds clunky and, colloquially, "What's the best place?" flows better in English while carrying the same meaning. Hai bác = literally, 2 (older) uncles, is spoken first as a mark of politeness. Bác indicates anyone older than your parent (or your parents' oldest sibling) but not grandparent relations.

In case you were wondering, "Ông tây này theo luôn?" means "This (male) westerner is coming too?"

100,000₫ = $4.40 and is not a super fair price for 2 people at a distance of 1.6km, btw (fair would be 20,000₫ per km). Individual xe ôm drivers typically quote their own prices, so if you're not careful you _can_ get overcharged. In this case Ahnnie's driver gave a price for two because it's easier to just talk with the one who knows Vietnamese, plus he probably knows the other driver well and figures she's not from around there so she won't notice the difference. Had Solas been on his own, he might have gotten swindled for far more. To that end, I hear there's a new app nowadays that standardizes the industry more.

Phở time

Phở Hòa Pasteur is a real place. It's famous for being run by the same family for quite a few generations now and an heirloom recipe that has sparked restaurant chains worldwide.

 **Cho** hai ly cà phê sữa đá – "Cho", or "give", is sometimes spoken before placing an order (or requesting anything, actually) to sound polite. "Give me two glasses of iced coffee" is what that translates to. The ultimate politeness is "Cho xin", "Let me ask for [insert item here], please". "Xin cho" for "Please give me" would not be applicable as it sounds more like begging, which defeats the purpose of a restaurant.

Flirting desire demon

Sifu means master, so why isn't sư phụ translated to "master"? Thing is, sư phụ has a martial artsy connotation in Vietnamese thanks to media portrayals. Sifu in the same way has a similar vibe in English, plus it's literally the word's origin, so it is more or less an okay counterpart. Ahnnie _could_ have used "thầy" or "thầy giáo" instead, as both mean "teacher", maybe even do okay as "master", but the implication is more like "schoolteacher" than how she views Solas.

And then the whole "ba chọ, bỏ chạy" joke – I was hit with that not too long ago and thought it would be funny to share here.


	35. Chapter 32

**A/N** : This update is _way_ more than a month late, and for that, I sincerely apologize!

* * *

The shuffle of robes and flutter of pages greeted Ahnnie as she went up the steps to the atrium library. Ringed on all sides with shelves, it provided a view of the rotunda below through a stone balustrade and supported the musty rookery above with sturdy wooden beams. Polearms was now rescheduled to every other day, giving her extra time on certain mornings, so she decided to spend this one searching for the book Solas recommended. She figured she should make the best use of her new availability as possible before more duties swamped her; her assistance in repairs no longer being necessary, there was only the Inquisitorship to worry about, and so far she'd been feeling its effects in the form of Alexius' judgment and more frequent war councils. But soon...

 _History of the Inquisition?_ Ahnnie paused at the shelf she was perusing and slid the book from its slot to have a look. With a cloud of dust, it opened up its secrets to her, secrets written in a brittle hand that detailed the formation of the first Inquisition all the way to the subsequent Nevarran Accord; at least, that was what she could gather from the summary on the cover page and table of contents.

 _Inquisitor Merek was the first Inquisitor_ _,_ Ahnnie thought in awe as she skimmed through the pages. _Ah...so they were kind of Spanish Inquisition-y_ _,_ she next thought as she read a passage on some of the Inquisition's blood mage and heretic hunts, oft described as part of "a reign of terror". Not the least bit surprising, considering how they were originally a loose group of Andrastian hardliners.

She flipped further through the years as she pulled into a slow walk about the library, engrossed in the runes that brought to life the organization she was now part of – that she was now _leader_ of – pouncing on the ones that gave away the names of her predecessors especially. _Botulf, Isembard, Rohese, Galiena...Inquisitor Ameridan was the last one..._ She sounded the syllables in her mind and imagined writing the name out in English. _Hmm, sounds like 'American'. And it would start with an 'A', like my name._ Coincidence? She allowed herself a small smile as she thought, _maybe_ _._

Of course, after the Nevarran Accord, Ameridan would not have been Inquisitor any longer. But what intrigued her was that, unlike the other Inquisitors, who had documented deaths, Ameridan disappeared during the early years of the Divine Age. He simply vanished from written record; whether of his own accord or some unknown demise, no one knew for certain...

 _Oh, right! The Fade Denizen Study thing!_ That was what she'd come here to get, not this history book. Still, it would prove to be an interesting read, so she tucked it under her arm while backtracking to the shelf to resume her search. _If only we had librarians here. That would make this so much easier. Do we have librarians?_ She wasn't sure she wanted to bother the silent people around her, afraid of mistaking them for what they were not. _But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask..._

Deep in her musings, Ahnnie almost missed the mustached mage brooding in an alcove to her right, catching him only by chance from the corner of her eye. He was sitting in a chair by the window, bent over a letter of sorts. Wondering what had him so introspective, Ahnnie slowed to a stop and rapped a knuckle on the nearest shelf. "Hey, Dorian."

It took a moment for him to realize he had been addressed. "Yes?" Dorian asked as he looked up, inquisitive.

"What's up? Is it anything interesting?" She pointed at the parchment.

He blinked. "Hm? This? Oh, it's...a letter regarding Felix."

"Really?" With all that had happened, she'd almost forgotten about him. "What's it say?"

Dorian leaned back in his chair and laid the letter against his thigh. "He went to the Magisterium," he explained. "Stood on the Senate floor and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, I'm informed. No news on the reaction, but everyone back home is talking." He paused a bit before adding, softly, "Felix always was as good as his word."

Though the news should have been good, she couldn't help noticing the mage's deflated tone. "Dorian?" Ahnnie asked worriedly. "Is something wrong?"

Dorian's hand clenched the letter a little tighter as he opened his mouth to speak. When no sound seemed able to make it past his throat, he huffed a brusque exhalation as though to force the words out. "He's dead," Dorian said at last. "The Blight caught up with him."

Ahnnie's breath caught in her throat and a hand involuntarily covered her mouth. "Oh no...Dorian, I...I'm so sorry..."

"He was ill and on borrowed time anyhow. It was coming, one way or another."

"Still, it...I hoped...and after what I said in the judgment..."

"I know," Dorian murmured. He looked back down at the letter again, rereading the runes for what must have been the umpteenth time before tearing his gaze away to give her a little smile. "He used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I worked late in his father's study, you know. 'Don't get into trouble on my behalf,' I'd tell him. 'I like trouble,' he'd say. Even in illness, Felix was the best of us; with him around, you knew things could be better. Tevinter could use more mages like him."

Despite his controlled voice, Ahnnie could see the emotion building in his moistening eyes. Suddenly, she, too, felt the same wetness in hers. "If only...if only he had been on Earth, he might have had a chance," she blurted out. "Our medicine is much more advanced and a solution could've been found–"

"Unless this advanced medicine could purge the taint completely, I would not call an elongated comatose existence a ' _solution_ '," Dorian countered quietly. "You saw what the good doctor's cure did for him...and I hardly think you'd want the same for yourself." He shook his head. "No, I think Felix was happier this way. Strange, I know – who in their right mind wants to die? But when I think of the agony he must have gone through, and that look in his eyes every time I cracked a 'not-dying' joke..."

Her eyes flickered from Dorian's pained gaze down to the stone floor. "Does his father know?"

"Not yet," Dorian admitted. "But soon."

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip as she tried not to imagine how that would play out. "Take it slow with him," she said after a while. "At least, that's what I would do. He's been through a lot, and...this news...it would crush him."

She was met with a quizzically raised brow when she looked back up. "An awfully kind thing to say of someone who almost destroyed the world," its owner remarked.

"Well..." Ahnnie's free hand rose and fell in her attempt to find a logical explanation, slapping back to her side when she couldn't. "It's true, isn't it? Everything he did was so he wouldn't lose Felix. He'd already lost his wife and now, his freedom...that's not to say it was all excusable, but I can't imagine how I would feel, if I were in his place..."

Dorian's eyes wandered in distant contemplation as he refolded the letter, and for a while he stayed that way. "I knew you wouldn't have the heart to give him a harsh sentence," he murmured at length. "Even when I doubted you, I had a feeling you wouldn't follow through with it. For that, I am grateful. I'm sure Alexius is as well."

Ahnnie did her best to muster a smile though she knew the probability of that last sentence was not very likely. She considered saying something in return, but nothing adequate came to mind. Then, seeing Dorian rise from his chair, she readjusted the hold on her book and decided it was time to leave. "Well, I have to go now. I'll still be in the library, but I've got to look for something. You'll, um...you'll be okay?"

"I will, thank you."

"All right, then. I'll see you later." Hugging the Inquisition book to her chest, she turned on her heel and retreated from the alcove.

"Try not to die," Dorian teased gently after her retreating form. "I would notice you were gone."

* * *

The weight of two books laid against her chest as Ahnnie exited the rotunda, taking the doorway leading outside rather than the one to the main hall. She'd planned on returning to her quarters to enjoy her new reads, but after learning of Felix's fate, a walk in the open felt more appropriate. With a much-needed drink of fresh air, Ahnnie slowly descended the winding steps round the tower, touching upon the lower courtyard a moment later directly across from the stables.

 _Glad to see Dennet's doing well,_ she thought as she watched the horsemaster tend to his steeds. He was instructing a new groom in particular on how to properly pick hooves. The mount they worked on was one of the new ones, if Ahnnie wasn't mistaken; she heard that Dennet had sent to his main farm in the Hinterlands for more, plus a good many had been donated along with supplies. Watching the men interact with the horse made her remember her own, though, and it was with a guilty conscience that she turned away to stifle the memory beneath the cruel Frostback snow where it belonged.

 _Blackwall's made his own place in the barn loft,_ she thought instead, _and I hear he's been carving up lots of new stuff there._ A pair of newly polished chopsticks had been left as a present on her desk a few days ago, in fact, bearing little pinecone carvings at the base. _Cole's been pretty quiet as of late._ She hadn't seen him much beyond coincidentally running into him at intervals; no further fuss had been raised about his presence, causing her to think his situation stable for now. _Then I think Bull and his Chargers've taken up space in the new tavern..._

Speak of the devil; her thoughts were broken seconds later by none other than Krem and Skinner jostling up ahead on their way to the upper courtyard. It was the first time she'd seen Skinner so lively, yet even then the city elf seemed to radiate danger. It was like watching Krem play with a wild predator. As he spun from the reach of Skinner's dagger, playfully swiped in what Ahnnie hoped was only mock aggression, his eyes met hers and brightened in recognition.

"Ahnnie!" Krem hailed. Skinner whirled around in response, lips curving into a smirk as she saw who it was. "Or is it Inquisitor now? Not gonna flay us alive for addressing you wrong, are you?"

"Don't worry," Skinner assured her fellow Charger, dragging a slender finger against the dagger's edge. "Threatening the world gets comfortable servitude. You're in more danger of becoming Tranquil."

Ahnnie did her best to hide her cringe beneath a friendly smile as she approached. "To be fair, I wouldn't exactly call Alexius' new life 'comfortable'. Ahnnie's still fine, by the way," she added to Krem.

"Fed and warm with no need to sweat? Comfortable," Skinner contended with a flick of the blade.

Ahnnie fidgeted at the elf's daring ease with the weapon, and what sounded like a smidgen of reproach in the prickling words. "A person's psychological state is important too," she felt the need to say. "At least, that's what I've found," she added with another fake smile.

Krem rolled his eyes at the both of them. "Save the philosophy for the red-robes," he groaned. "Or better yet, drown it all in alcohol. Whaddyou say, Ahnnie? Care for a drink? Chief's been missing you."

He hooked a chummy arm around her shoulder, causing her to tense her grip on the books. "W-well..." She averted her eyes from his face, suddenly brought so close to hers. "I guess an ale sounds nice..."

"Ha! 'Course it does."

 _I could totally use the distraction,_ she thought as she went along with Krem, slipping out of his grasp a few steps later with a playful duck of her head. _It's just...Skinner..._ The dark haired elf still toyed with her dagger bare-handed, performing such feats as flipping and catching it by the blade tip. She seemed to derive a morbid amusement in sending chills down Ahnnie's spine, putting the girl on edge with every close call and seeming imperviousness to sharp points.

"You should train with us sometime, you know," Krem said. "Show us some of your new moves. You've got an enchanted weapon, yeah? Bet that'll come in handy real soon."

"Training! Good idea," Ahnnie chimed along, eagerly tearing her mortified gaze away from Skinner. "I could learn a thing or two from you guys as well. You still remember the Tevinter sword style by any chance?"

" _Pah! '_ Remember'? I could do it in my sleep with a hand tied behind my back," Krem boasted. "Tevinter'll give you better balance than that Fereldan flailing they've taught you, at any rate."

"But Cassandra's the one who's taught me sword fighting," Ahnnie interjected with a frown. "And I don't think she's Fereldan?"

"Nevarran, whatever," Krem said as they started mounting the stairs. The tavern lay just across once they crested the first landing, its brand new sign swaying merrily in the breeze. "But if it's Nevarran you've been learning, then that's not too far removed from Tevinter. Still not as refined, in my opinion."

"Huh, I never noticed. She always talked about blade shapes and their uses, but never said anything about a style. I didn't even know she was _from_ Nevarra..." But Ahnnie trailed off as they drew near the entrance, her attention arrested on the shield-shaped sign rocking to and fro above the door. "Is that..." She squinted as she tried to discern the shapes painted on its surface. "Is that _me?_ "

When they finally came close enough, she realized that yes, it was indeed her painted on the sign. More specifically, it was her cradled in Andraste's arms like a sleeping babe, marked hand hanging freely and glowing with the Anchor's trademark verdancy. Both she and the Maker's Bride were dressed in robes of snowy white, but while her face was turned away from view, Andraste looked out at those beyond the sign with a rosy-cheeked maternal serenity.

Krem smiled knowingly as he opened the door for her. "Guess what they call it?"

He revealed a spacious tap room more than thrice the size of the Singing Maiden's. Walled by stone and floored with rush-strewn wood, it sported a little hearth blazing merrily near the center, long chimney nestled in the nook of the stairway. Following the chimney's ascent to the high ceiling above, Ahnnie could see not one but _two_ more storeys in addition to the ground floor. With an awed step, she crossed the threshold and made for the carpeted space before the hearth, but a plaque on one of the wooden posts caught her eye first. She walked closer to it and read its words aloud:

" _A place for all in service here, to rest, recoup, and persevere_ – _Though weighs the heart, remember best, your saving grace..._ _the Herald's Rest._ "

"Do you like it?" a dulcet voice asked her from across the room, and Ahnnie looked up to find Maryden the bard striding expectantly towards her, mug in hand. "Osbert wanted something to officiate the tavern with, and I thought a verse would make it stand out..."

"Oh, of course! It's perfect!" Ahnnie exclaimed. "It's–"

A joyful bark interrupted her and her shoes were beset by a pair of nosy snouts, followed by sharp teeth. The propulsion of three furry bodies against her calves made her pitch forward slightly, which she took with a laugh as she knelt to meet the canine threat to her leather boots. "Charley! Pepper! _Down,_ boys! _Eek_ , Maiden!" she squealed as they doubled their assault with slimy face licks. "One at a time – you've gotten so big!"

Krem chuckled as he came up to her, Skinner lurking darkly behind him. "I'm going to the chief," the elf announced with a pat on his shoulder, flipping her dagger in a little toss back into its sheath as she slipped away. "Come when you're ready."

"We'll be right there," he affirmed, and turned back to the laughing Inquisitor at his feet. "The yellow one's chewing on a book," he informed with a boot nudge to her leg. Noticing the bard before them, he looked up and flashed Maryden a grin. "Thought the place seemed a bit too quiet. Enjoying a break?" He nodded at the mug.

Maryden smiled back and shook her head. "Yes, but it's just water." She cleared her throat and gestured back at the lute and stool beside the fireplace. "Grab a seat and drink; I'll be back to playing soon and would love to hear what you think of my new song. I finished it last night and was refining it just now...you wouldn't mind?"

Ahnnie rolled away from the puppies and shot back up, breathless. They still attacked her feet, though, at which she couldn't help but grin. "No, of course not...Ack, he got a bit of the binding!" she lamented, fingering the wet toothmarks in _The Inquisition_ 's spine, albeit not-so-regretfully. "Pepper, how could you..."

"Right, come along," Krem urged as he ushered her to the tables. The puppies he scattered with a flick of the wrist before they could distract her again, and they were off in a flash after the piece of old biscuit he had tossed. As he and Ahnnie neared a table, marked in particular by a pair of familiar pronged horns, Krem belted out, "Oi! Chief! We weren't keepin' you, were we?"

The scruffy heads of a handful of Chargers turned in their direction, and the Iron Bull let out a roar of laughter. "'Bout time! Thought Skinner ate you or something." Noticing Ahnnie and the books in her arms, Bull added, "Well, look what the _Crème_ dragged in! Make some space, boys."

Ahnnie smiled sheepishly as she slid into a space between Rocky and Stitches. Grim stared nonchalantly across from her, flanked by a sniggering Skinner and a shaggy-haired Charger she hadn't yet met. "Krem caught me before I could put these away," she explained, stroking some hair behind an ear as she laid the books down. "Hope that's okay? I could do that real quick and come back..."

"This has got to be _the most_ politest boss I've ever worked for," Bull remarked to the Chargers around him. "Ain't that right, boys?" At the chorus of playful assents, he waved the matter away. "Nah, boss, you're good where you are. Lemme see what you got there–" And before she could protest, Stitches slid the books out in front of him to read their covers.

"A _History of the Inquisition_ ," the healer announced to the table before sliding the other book to Krem, who handed it to Bull.

"Some fancy-pants book on Fade monsters!" the qunari barked, and Ahnnie swore her heart leapt to her mouth as he tossed it heedlessly down to the shaggy Charger, who caught it one-handed by the spine and spun it like a top on its axis before laying it flat to a random page in the middle.

"...I can't read," the Charger said after a while of staring blankly at the runes.

"Well no kiddin', Snipe! I was aiming for Grim!"

While they busied themselves laughing, Ahnnie shot a hand out for the book. Snipe looked up in response to the movement, causing her to hesitate. She met his one-eyed gaze with a shaky smile. "Could I have it back...please?"

The book's fate seemed uncertain as he pondered her question with an indecisive hum. Then, in a deft swipe, Snipe flipped it into his hands and arced back his arm. Horrified, Ahnnie clambered out of her seat in a desperate bid to catch it, but when he flicked his wrist, it was to deposit the volume normally in her outstretched hands. The entire table erupted in laughter at Ahnnie's shocked face, and she settled back into her seat with burning cheeks.

"Sorry boss, couldn't help it," Iron Bull apologized, wheezing. "So...whaddyou want? My treat."

"Ah, no, it's fine," she demurred, carefully sliding _The Inquisition_ back to her from where it lay before Stitches. Stacking the books onto each other, she added, "I can pay for myself. I guess for now I'll just have an ale."

"Nonsense! Just sit tight and let this one on me. You can pay for all our drinks next time; eh, boys?" he asked his Chargers with a mischievous wink. Before Ahnnie could protest, Bull barked for a server, his thunderous voice booming across the tavern. Background noise ceased for the split second that the volume reached its peak.

Five minutes later, a response floated down to them from the other end of the tap room. "The Lady Herald is here!" A shining bald pate ringed with dark brush bobbed amongst the tables, and Osbert popped in shortly after. "Why did no one tell me sooner? You ought t've told me sooner, Maryden!" he barked in slight reproach.

"Don't forget _me_ , Papa!" And Netta bounced into place from behind, sticking her head through the space between Rocky and Ahnnie. "Hello," she greeted them both when they turned to her.

Rocky wiggled his fingers at her good-naturedly while Ahnnie swiveled about to better face the little girl. "Of course, she said. "Who could ever forget you?" Stroking the child's unkempt mane, she ran her fingers gently through the knotted brown tangles and beamed up at Osbert. "I was starting to wonder what you were up to. Little did I know it was opening up your own tavern! How long?"

Osbert's cheeks flushed, turning a ruddy complexion even ruddier. "Been almost a week now," he continued, "Lady Heral – I mean...Inquisitor."

"I know," Bull sympathized. "Takes some getting used to."

Suddenly, an incensed feline yowling pierced the air, making Ahnnie jolt. " _Piss off,_ _yah stupid cat!_ " Sera's voice echoed from the floor above above, followed by a loud clatter. Everyone looked up and saw a silvery flash weaving between the table legs closest to the railings, hounded by a bouncing wooden mug. As the cat dashed down the steps, the irate elf could be heard sneering "Chucking hairballs on my friggin' feet" before stomping off and slamming a door.

"So's having good ol' Sera as a tenant," Krem added with a snicker. "Or landlord, however you see it. Must make for a lively time, eh?"

Netta's face twisted into a displeased pout. "I wish she wouldn't do that with Silver! It happens with the puppies, too," she tattled to Ahnnie. "Mr. Blackwall says cats are good because they hunt vermin, and a tavern with no vermin is a clean one. I tried telling her but she wouldn't listen. She also makes Nala blush with 'lood' jokes. Lady Inquisitor, what does 'lood' mean?"

"Never you mind about that," Osbert chided from the corner of his mouth. "Anyway..." He wiped his hands on the edge of his apron and looked expectantly about the table. "What can I get you folks? I see you've just arrived," he pointed at Krem and Skinner. "And of course, Inquisitor," he added with a nod.

"Get me a beer," Krem ordered.

"Whisky," Skinner chimed in.

"An ale," was Ahnnie's obvious answer. Then she paused. "And...a bowl of stew. If it's the same venison stew, that would be great, but if it's not...still great." A sheepish smile concluded the order, along with hope that she hadn't been too imposing.

Osbert's old eyes softened. "We've a fresh pot on the stove," he murmured through his beard. "Still the same old recipe. Well, I've added more rosemary and adjusted the stock, but..."

"It sounds good," Ahnnie affirmed.

The tavern cook – now innkeep, she supposed – puffed with pride and declared thereupon that he would deliver their orders himself. Netta giggled at her new papa's pomp as Ahnnie made room for the child to sit next to her; she was eager to catch up on the little girl's side of things and neither Rocky nor the others seemed to mind. As their table lapsed into cheerful banter once more, Ahnnie thought she could hear a thoughtful murmur rambling across the din.

"...sweet, something sweet – ale's not enough, gets musty after a while. She'd like something sweeter, something fruity, brighter...mead, perhaps? Or the new wine from Orlais, made of plums..."

Osbert paused in his tracks, blinking confusedly for several seconds. "Why...yes, why didn't I think of it sooner? Inquisitor..." He turned back around. "What would you say to a cup of plum wine? It's prime vintage, according to the Royan who sold it to me. Just a sampling, see if you like it..."

Ahnnie tilted her head and pursed her lips in thought. "Sure, why not?"

Osbert nodded vigorously and set off less absentmindedly than before. When he was gone, Ahnnie looked quizzically in the direction of the murmur. Almost instantly, Cole's sullen eyes met hers between Snipe and Grim. "It makes him happy when I suggest something fancier to the guests," he explained, startling the two Chargers in the process. "But usually, just to the guests. This is the first I've tried on him; either way, he doesn't know."

The others at the table gave Cole suspicious, but otherwise nonchalant, glances. Ahnnie wondered if they knew anything of Cole's controversy before giving the bedraggled young man a smile. "What matters is that it helps," she quipped.

" _I_ showed him how to do that," Netta boasted. "Because he wasn't being very good at helping. Did you know he once put old plums on the windowsills? Bugs crawled _every_ where!"

Ahnnie frowned and raised an eyebrow at Cole.

"Spiders need to eat too," he protested.

She could practically feel the curious glances grow in intensity from those around them. "Well, we can't help everyone, can we?" Seeking to change the subject, Ahnnie scooted herself closer to Netta to make more room on the bench. "C'mon Cole, have a seat." When he hesitated, she waved insistently at the empty spot. "It's been a while; we need to catch up!"

Cole slowly rounded the table's edge and approached the bench with trepidation, as if uncertain of her intent. Eventually she convinced him to lower himself onto it, and after he sat down, she was acutely aware of how close they had become. _The seating's a little squished, isn't it?_ Her eyes flitted past Cole to Stitches. _He should_ _make more room. This is..._

"...kind of uncomfortable. My thigh's touching his. If I turn around, it'll be our noses," he murmured, causing her cheeks to burn a bright red.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" she spluttered. "Don't you, uh, want to order anything? Wait, have you met the Chargers yet?" she quickly asked, gesturing at the people around them.

Cole stared blankly at Snipe and Skinner in turn. "He tried to pellet me with stones, and she almost stabbed me once."

"I don't like creepy shems," Skinner stated flatly.

The Iron Bull smirked in amusement. "C'mon, kids, play nice – any friend of the Inquisitor's a friend of ours."

"But that's where we ought to draw the line, chief," Krem interjected, mouth splitting into a mischievous grin. "Might get a little messy if they're...more."

Stitches snickered and Rocky cackled with glee, much to Ahnnie's distress. "More?" she echoed dumbly.

"I don't know what it's like where you're from," Stitches began, "but around here, friends don't whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears."

Even Skinner's mouth turned up at that, and Snipe barely hid his chortles. "Sweet noth–" Ahnnie choked. "What!?"

"What else were you blushing about, eh?" Krem suggested with a wink.

"N-no," she stuttered, "that's not what he was, we were just, it was–"

"All right, all right," Iron Bull interrupted. "Cut her some slack, boys...we can all gossip about her sex life later."

Netta looked curiously from Bull to Ahnnie. "Sex? What's–"

Ahnnie slapped a hand over the child's mouth. "It's nothing! Absolutely nothing."

Netta's round eyes flickered upwards from the sudden hand to Ahnnie's chin. "Like those nothings he's whispered in your ear?" her muffled voice asked through the fingers. "Were they really sweet?"

Laughter yet again rumbled around the table. "Hey, straight to the point! I like this kid!" Iron Bull raised his mug. "You want anything to eat, kid? My treat."

Netta squirmed out of Ahnnie's mortified hold and craned her head towards the table to get a better look at Bull. "I would like a fruit tart," she replied after some thought. "Could I touch your horns, too? Are they real? I've never seen anyone with horns before."

"Sure, why not? C'mon over here."

And just like that, Netta slid away to take up position as the Iron Bull's guest of honor. Feeling slightly betrayed, yet freed for the time being of mockery, Ahnnie let out a deep sigh and smiled apologetically at Cole. "They're, uh...real fun, as you can see."

"It's embarrassing for you," Cole said, "but it's how they show love."

"I guess."

"It also means you're fun to taunt."

She opened her mouth to form a protest, but soon gave up and shook her head in mock exasperation. "I figured as much."

Osbert finally came round with the drinks, giving Krem and Skinner reason to stay quiet for a while as they set to work on losing their sobriety. As for Ahnnie, he placed before her a dainty glass tumbler filled two-thirds of the way with a light amber liquid, followed by a bowl of piping hot venison stew. "Let me know if it's not to your liking," he said as he pulled the tray away.

Ahnnie tested the stew with a careful sip. "It's perfect," she assured him, and the happy innkeep went to take Bull's newest order looking as though he'd won the lottery. After swallowing a second taste, Ahnnie let down her spoon and turned to the tumbler. _I wonder if it will taste anything like spiced wine?_

She took hold of it in one hand and gently raised it to her lips, closing her eyes as the heady fumes tingled her nostrils in a stinging, but pleasant, way. The fruity essence of plum, fermented to intoxicating perfection with _just_ the right amount of fiery bite, hit her tongue in an aromatic wave. Sweet, rich, and subtly spicy, it was so much more exciting than ale and appreciably less intense than spiced wine or whisky.

Ahnnie found herself letting out an audible sigh of satisfaction as the cup parted from her lips. She looked up and met Cole's expectant eyes with an impressed nod. "You're really good at...well, this." She gestured at the tumbler. "Business must be good with you here."

Cole blinked. "Do you think so?"

"Well...yeah!" she nodded. "The restaura–er, tavern business relies a lot on repeat customers, and if you're able to suggest them things they'll like, it'll make them want to come back." _I know I do,_ Ahnnie thought, swirling the wine in her tumbler appreciatively. _Then again, this is literally the only tavern for miles around...no complaints here, though._

Cole looked down, hiding his face beneath the wide brim of his hat. "Thank you," he murmured a short while later, so quietly that Ahnnie almost failed to notice.

She wondered at first if she had somehow offended him. It took a moment to register his sudden shyness. _Awww!_ she almost wanted to gush out loud. _He's being bashful!_

It was hard to believe, but he was actually being cute for once _._ As Ahnnie fought the urge to peer beneath Cole's hat, Madame Vivienne's analogy of the young man to a puppy suddenly became more relevant. So much so that it took her aback; mysterious, yes, and creepy at times, with a touch of endearing, but "cute" was now a new adjective she suddenly found fitting to describe him.

"Must be the wine," she murmured through the tumbler, taking a fresh sip to conceal the warmth already spreading on her cheeks.

The tinkling of lute strings in the beginnings of a song carried over from across the tap room, and Ahnnie remembered the new song that Maryden had wanted to play. She perked up in the bard's direction and saw her dark-haired head bent studiously over the lute. The steady tune was nice and relaxing, though unlike Maryden's usual repertoire, it carried within it a somber tone.

" _A soldier, a savior; a_ _hero, a leader,_ _Inquisitor fought for our souls..._ "

Krem looked about the table as the song's nature grew more obvious, leading the Chargers into a chorus of amused "oohs". "To the Inquisitor!" he exclaimed with a raise of his mug, and the Chargers readily complied, accompanied by Netta's little voice and those of several neighboring tables. Ahnnie smiled sheepishly and turned back to her wine, the liquid contortions of the table through the glass suddenly made more interesting.

" _A battle, a breach,_

 _The one we beseeched,_

 _To protect our lives and our homes..._

 _Now how do we follow?_

 _The battle is all but won._

 _Peace can't last forever;_

 _Guard us from what's to come._ "

"It's all right," Cole whispered. "You needn't be afraid. They do this because they like you."

Ahnnie looked up at him. "I-I know," she whispered back, "but, it's just...I just haven't gotten used to it."

" _Inquisitor, take your breath..._ "

She sighed at the irony and leaned on an elbow as she decided to continue eating, keeping her head down all the while.

"You probably won't," Cole conceded. "But you'll never be lonely. It's better than what you had to go through."

" _A soldier, a savior;_

 _a_ _hero, a leader,_

 _Inquisitor fought for our souls..._ "

"I guess that counts for something," Ahnnie said with a shrug. In thinking of what she had to go through, however, her mind wandered back to the Breach, to the life she'd sealed along with it... _If only I didn't have to lose everything I liked from before,_ she thought, and quickly shut it down before it could go any further. _Focus on this,_ she reminded herself, anchoring down in Maryden's lyrics; _this is the reality now. This is all that matters._

She didn't have to go far, anyway; as the song plucked into another chorus, a sturdy hand suddenly clapped on her shoulder. Ahnnie whirled around and saw that it was Varric. She stood up to greet him then and had her mouth formed in a "Hello", when she noticed the graveness of his expression.

"Come with me," the dwarf instructed under his breath. "Hawke's here."

* * *

"Didya really have to bring those books?"

"I wouldn't trust them with the Chargers any day of the week. They used them to play catch when I was there...I don't want to think of what'll happen when I'm _not_ there."

Varric frowned at the tomes in her arms before conceding with a slow nod. "Fair enough. But put 'em down somewhere. Those things look heavy."

Ahnnie looked about the battlements and decided on the flat edge of the balustrade. "Sooo," she began as she set the books down, "is he going to take a while? Or is this..."

But Varric was too distracted with watching their surroundings and appeared not to have heard. She decided to drop the matter and leaned against the balustrade, opening up the Inquisition history book to pass the time. Despite that, she couldn't help but feel the shock and surprise that had surged through her the moment Varric first uttered the name–

Hawke. _The_ Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, subject of books and ballads – or at least, what fanciful tales Varric had told her of him – still, she had heard other Thedosians utter his name, and when they spoke it, it was in terms of a legend. Among many of his exploits, he was critical in repelling Qunari invaders some seven years back and received the title of Champion from the then-Knight Commander of Kirkwall. _Less than a decade, and he's already known all over Thedas_ – yet his supposed encounter with Corypheus was...new, to say the least.

Common knowledge dictated that he mysteriously disappeared after the Battle of Kirkwall. Quite understandable, given the circumstances. But no one knew where he was, or even if he'd died. Varric always made it a point to tell her in his stories that Hawke had gone missing; now he was suddenly reachable through raven and coming to meet her at any moment? _And_ he was the "friend" that had advice to give on Corypheus?

Had Varric's mannerisms not been so serious, Ahnnie would have taken the entire thing for an elaborate prank.

"Ah, there you are," Varric exclaimed, breaking the girl from her thoughts. "I thought you'd never come. Inquisitor, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall."

"Though, I don't use that title much anymore," a deep voice interjected, and Ahnnie turned from the balustrade to find that it belonged to a gruff-looking man in his late thirties to mid forties. She didn't know what she'd expected, but she didn't envision the Champion of Kirkwall looking so tousled, with an unkempt mess of black hair and beard, and neither had she imagined him looking so...tired. She supposed that was to be expected, given the circumstances of their meeting, but he seemed to carry more than the weight of regular fatigue beneath his eyes. One thing she certainly recognized, however, was the bright red smear of paint slashed across his nose bridge; his character trademark.

"Hawke, the Inquisitor," Varric introduced.

"And so we are," Hawke groused. "She understands Common?"

"Of course. She's foreign, but not _that_ foreign." Varric smiled at him. "I doubt this bears repeating, but I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all."

 _Wait, what?_ Ahnnie looked accusingly at Varric, but the dwarf had ambled away to another side of the battlement by then, leaving her and Hawke to themselves.

"Mm," Hawke grunted, giving the girl a passing glance before heading for the balustrade. She looked from Varric to Hawke before deciding to follow Hawke, approaching his back with more than a little trepidation.

"O-oh, let me move those," Ahnnie stuttered when Hawke leaned against the stone, his elbow mere centimeters away from her books' spines. She slid them aside carefully, froze as second thoughts developed on whether or not it seemed rude, then sheepishly settled back from the balustrade with her hands clasped behind her back.

Hawke regarded the books and her jerky movements with an inscrutable eye. She fought back a gulp, creeping shame prickling against her neck at the thought of his first impression being that of incompetence. "You want my advice?" he asked at last, voice ringing harshly. "Did you hear what happened to Kirkwall? My _advice_ nearly tore that city apart."

"I..." She cleared her throat. "I've heard. It's...well, it was tough, but you did the best you could in an impossible situation, and...people were going to die either way..."

Hawke snorted dryly. "Very encouraging."

"Ah, I didn't mean to..." She stopped, took a deep breath, and said, "I guess I should have said that, had it been anyone else, they would have broken down. But you saw it through, and it wasn't the best outcome, but I mean, could there really have been an ideal outcome? No one can do everything at once, and–"

He held up a hand of interruption. "Fair enough. I'll tell you whatever you think will help. But just so you know, you've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I'm sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison."

"He escaped anyway," Ahnnie pointed out, "and I didn't do it on my own. If it wasn't for all of Haven..."

"You've already sealed the Breach. At your age, that's damned impressive. _I_ could barely get my friends to stop fighting."

She shook her head. "Whatever you know helps. It doesn't matter what I've done – I need help, and Varric said you could give it. Why else are you here now in Skyhold?"

"All right, all right," Hawke sighed. "I'll tell you what I know...for whatever good it does."

A weighty silence fell between them, and Ahnnie wondered whether Hawke planned to renege on his promise. Their conversation didn't have the smoothest of starts, after all. But perhaps he was gathering his thoughts? Or was he waiting on her to start asking? _First thing I'd like to know, is how on earth he and Varric encountered Corypheus..._

Just as she decided to open her mouth, Hawke finally opened his. "This view reminds me of my home in Kirkwall," he remarked. "I had a balcony that overlooked the whole city. I loved it at first, but after a while, all I could see were the people out there depending on me."

She looked from him to the courtyard below, watching the tiny people move about in their daily goings-on. "I can relate," she confessed. "I've tried not to think about it much, but it kind of scares me when I do. I just tell myself that this is as much for me as it is for them." She bit down on her bottom lip and turned to Hawke. "Does...does it ever get any easier?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and shrugged. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, okay..." Ahnnie stretched her arms and brought them back in front to cross them. "So, uh...Varric said that you guys fought Corypheus before..."

Hawke straightened himself with a grunt and stood face-to-face with her. "Fought and killed," he supplied. "The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used their connection to the darkspawn to influence them."

"Corypheus got into their heads," Varric added as he paced by. "Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other."

"Grey Wardens..." Ahnnie frowned. "Does that have anything to do with their disappearance?"

"They could have fallen under his control again," Hawke guessed.

An army of Venatori, Red Templars, a dragon, and now Grey Wardens? That didn't sound good. _Lucky for us, Blackwall wasn't affected_. "If that's so, do you think we can free them? Is it reversible?"

"It's possible, but we need to know more first."

"I see..." She frowned again. "But wait...if you guys already killed Corypheus...how is he still alive?"

Hawke raised an eyebrow and turned to Varric. "You didn't tell her?"

"Didn't think to," Varric shot back. "It wasn't important at the time."

"Great Maker, you had up until my arrival to..."

"Better that she hears from you now. Am I right?"

Hawke sighed. "I'll try to make this quick, then," he muttered, and turned back to Ahnnie. "The Grey Wardens used my father's blood some time before the Fifth Blight in a ritual to seal him deep in the Vimmark Mountains. But he could still reach out and influence their thoughts, so he sent them after me. He needed my blood to break his seals."

"And...you broke them?" Ahnnie asked.

"Had to, if I wanted to escape. One thing led to another, we fought, I killed him...and I didn't just _think_ I killed him," Hawke insisted, his expression growing frustrated. "When the fight was done, he was dead on the ground. Maybe his tie to the Blight somehow brought him back, or maybe it's old Tevinter magic...but he _was_ dead. I swear it."

As Ahnnie processed his words, she couldn't help but feel an ever-sinking weight lowering into the pit of her stomach. _How could Varric not think this important? He could have said something when Leliana started looking into the Wardens' disappearance!_ It never occurred to her until now just how much the silver-tongued dwarf was potentially keeping to himself. Suddenly, she wondered what the specific details of his original imprisonment were.

But that was for another time. "What do we do, then?" she asked Hawke, helplessly.

"I didn't come this far to give you bad news," he reassured her. "I've got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud; the last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing."

"Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks," Varric remarked, halting in between them. "Did your friend disappear with them?"

"No. He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood."

Okay, that was a start. "We'll arrange to meet your friend, then," Ahnnie said with a nod. "But what were you investigating, if I may ask?"

"The Templars at Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium," Hawke obliged. "It was red. I'd hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it."

Ahnnie's eyes widened. "That's exactly what Corypheus' templars were using!"

"Is it now?" Hawke rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting. Hopefully, Stroud will know more." After some contemplation, he dropped his hand back to his side. "That's about all I can tell you at the moment. You want anything else, go to Crestwood."

Though she wished he could have provided more, the given information, however small, was good enough. "I'll take whatever lead I can get," she readily affirmed. "Thank you for coming; I needed this more than you'll ever know."

Hawke nodded. "Of course. Corypheus was my responsibility; I thought I'd killed him before. This time...I'll make sure of it."

She was surprised to hear such conviction in his voice, considering how he seemed earlier; then she realized his initial reluctance was not so much unwillingness to disclose, as it was uncertainty in his helpfulness. He seemed less formidable then as she watched him retreat from the battlements, leaving them with little more than a brusque farewell before making his secret departure.

"I should tell the advisors," Ahnnie said as she picked up her books again. "We need to leave for Crestwood as soon as possible–"

"Give it several days," Varric cut her off, and met her accusatory look with an apology. "Look, I want to get this over with as much as you do. But I'm respecting Hawke's wishes here. He doesn't want our forces on his tail. After a lifetime of fame, he just wants his privacy."

The girl opened her mouth to protest, before realizing that she would have wanted the same. "All right," she relented. "But three days...three days is all I'm waiting."

"Three days is plenty enough," Varric agreed with a grin.

* * *

Three days felt like eternal torture. They went by in such agonizingly slow speed, the urgency of what she now knew growing with every passing minute, yet the obligation of waiting to disclose it barring her from any action. It was so much so that Ahnnie couldn't find the courage to confide in Solas, even when she couldn't seem to focus during another magic practice session in the woods – and she normally would have spilled the beans to him gladly.

When the days were finally up, Josephine's office in the war room antechamber was literally the first place she sent herself to straight after awakening. It was an open-concept space tucked to the side of the room, directly visible upon entering and only encumbered by a small indentation of steps.

All was perfectly still as Ahnnie stepped into the office proper. Dust motes floated in the rays of sunlight emanating from the windows, and the hearth was freshly swept; everything had the essence of a fresh morning about it. Perhaps she had come a little _too_ early, for not even Josephine herself was anywhere in sight. But something caught the girl's eye before she could even dwell on the matter, a little splash of color against the prim ambassador's otherwise bare desk.

 _So Josephine put up some flowers,_ Ahnnie remarked, stepping up to the desk to admire the vibrant blossoms. _About time; there's never anything else on it besides paper and more paper._ She smiled at the quaint little pot they were situated in, thinking the variance from Josephine's refined classiness a welcome change. _I wonder who she got them from? I've only ever seen these out in the woods with Solas..._

The door to the war room corridor opened just then and Ahnnie looked up to find Josephine emerging with papers in hand. "Inquisitor!" the ambassador gasped. "I did not expect to see you so early. What brings you?"

"I had something important I wanted to discuss with all the advisors," Ahnnie replied. "In fact, I think we should call together a council."

"Ah, yes, very good point!" Josephine's heels clacked against the stone as she strode for her desk. "I was thinking just the same thing!"

"You were?" Ahnnie asked confusedly, wondering how Josephine could have known what she wanted to say already.

"Why, of course, Inquisitor, I–" She paused at the desk upon noticing the flowers, her face lighting up in surprise for the briefest of seconds. It quickly melted into a pleasant smile, a smile which noticeably stuck as she slid into her upholstered chair. "As I was going to say, I've been working on something important that I think we should act on as soon as possible."

 _So these were a surprise?_ Ahnnie wondered, looking at the flowers again. _Oooh...does Josephine have a suitor?_ But she had more important things to worry about than the ambassador's love life. "How important are we talking?

" _Very_ important. It concerns the future of Orlais."

Ahnnie wondered how she would fit Hawke into it all, but decided to let Josephine have her say first. "Go on."

"I've made some inquiries into the Imperial Court," the ambassador explained. "The sooner we deal with the threats to the Empress, the better. The political situation in the Empire is dangerously unstable; it will complicate matters. As you know, the Empress is in the middle of a civil war..."

"Right, the thing about her cousin," Ahnnie remembered.

"Yes, Grand Duke Gaspard," Josephine clarified. "Leliana reports that a group of elves has been sabotaging both armies, drawing out the hostilities. Orlais holds Tevinter at bay; all of Thedas could be lost if the Empire falls to Corypheus. To that end, Celine is holding peace talks under the auspices of a grand masquerade. Every power in Orlais will be there."

Ahnnie frowned. "That's good, isn't it?"

"It's the perfect place for an assassin to hide."

"Oh." Now she felt stupid. "All right then...I take it to mean we need to be at this masquerade?"

"We don't have enough sway with the Court to arrange an invitation. _Yet._ " Josephine shuffled the papers before laying them flat on her desk and dipped a pen into an inkwell. "I am working closely with Madame Vivienne on the matter; see who we can curry favor with, or, who will want to curry favor with _us_. While we _could_ arrive at the masquerade under the Madame or even Duke Bastien's support, it would be beneficial to have more than one Orlesian power backing us."

"Is there something from the Grand Game that I'm missing?" Ahnnie asked. "Why all the trouble?"

"As a fairly new organization, we wouldn't want to appear too much as though we are riding on the coattails of an influential member," Josephine explained. "We want to show that we can attract the endorsement of others rather than rely on one person. If we successfully present that image, naturally more people will follow. You get the gist."

 _I'll never understand these Orlesian intrigues,_ Ahnnie bemoaned to herself. "Anyway," she began, sweeping the Empire aside, "I wanted to talk about something else entirely..."

"Yes?" Josephine asked, all ears.

Another set of footsteps opened up behind Ahnnie, and she turned her head back to find that Cassandra had entered the office. "Perfect!" the girl exclaimed. "You're just in time, Cassandra. You'll want to hear this, too."

The Seeker looked from ambassador to Inquisitor. "Indeed?" she asked as she stopped at the desk. "And what is it?"

Ahnnie's face beamed with excitement as she addressed the two women. "We finally have something new on Corypheus. I met with Varric's friend three days ago–"

"Three days ago?" Cassandra echoed. "Why did you not tell us then?"

She tried not to let the sting of reproach affect her too badly. "Well, his friend wanted me to wait. You know how Varric was about meeting privately and everything. Anyway...so, it turns out that he's fought Corypheus before, and that Corypheus used to be imprisoned by Grey Wardens, but he affected their minds and made them, well, not themselves; also, there's a Warden named Stroud with more information hiding out in Crestwood, who we'll need to go meet...Okay, my mind is all over the place at the moment," Ahnnie admitted, "so we'll probably need to gather a council to discuss it in more detail. But get this; the guy that I met with three days ago was _Hawke_! The Champion of Kirkwall!"

Josephine's eyes widened and her mouth fell agape. She fearfully turned towards the Seeker, whose face was absolutely seething.

Ahnnie followed Josephine's gaze and blinked at the unexpected reaction. "C-Cassandra?" she asked timidly. "Is...something wrong?"

Everything went quiet for several seconds. " _Hawke_ ," the Seeker eventually ground out, head bobbing in a slow, deliberate nod. "So it was _Hawke._ Varric has much to answer for."

"Now, Lady Cassandra," Josephine spluttered, but the enraged Seeker stormed out of the office just as Josephine was rising from her chair. "Oh dear," the ambassador muttered as she sank back down. "This is not good..."

Ahnnie stared confusedly after the angry woman's figure, a looming sense of dread creeping slowly through her chest. _What have I done?_ she wondered, and ran after Cassandra before she could lose sight of her.

* * *

"Seeker – Seeker Cassandra?" Ahnnie panted to a bewildered Inquisition soldier as she stopped to catch her breath.

"She went that way, Lady Inquisitor," the soldier answered, pointing to a wooden structure across the courtyard. "Is everything all right?"

Ahnnie waved the matter away. "It's – it's okay! I just needed to know. Thanks!" As soon as she spoke the last word, she straightened back up and ran for the appointed direction.

"You're...welcome?"

Ahnnie burst through the door without a moment's hesitation and paused for more breath when she saw no one present. Then a clatter sounded from the loft above and her feet moved automatically up a pair of rickety stairs to her left.

"You _knew_ where Hawke was all along!" Cassandra's angry shout echoed, pumping more fear and adrenaline through the girl's veins as she stomped up the steps.

"You're damned right I did!" Varric retorted. Another loud clatter followed.

"You conniving little _shit_!"

Ahnnie stumbled on the landing in time to find Cassandra's arm mid-swing in a punch for Varric's face. The dwarf dodged it nimbly and slipped away to the other side of the loft. "You _kidnapped_ me!" he shot back. "You interrogated me! What did you expect?"

"You–"

"Guys!" Ahnnie shouted breathlessly as she jumped in between them. "Enough!" When they flinched instinctively in her direction, she held out her arms, for fear of them lunging at each other again.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed at the girl. "You're taking _his_ side?" she demanded incredulously.

"N-no," Ahnnie stuttered, looking back and forth at them both, "I just...I just want you guys to stop fighting!"

The desperate crack in her voice must have had an effect, for the dwarf and Seeker relaxed their stances and the dangerous tension dropped from the air; but only some of it.

"We needed someone to lead this Inquisition," Cassandra seethed, pacing to and fro on her side of the loft. "First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but she had vanished. _Then_ , we looked for Hawke, but he was gone too. We thought it all connected...but no." Her sharp eyes zeroed in on Varric. "It was just _you._ You kept him from us!"

The truth began dawning on Ahnnie at that moment. _Hawke was the reason Varric was being held prisoner in the first place..._

"The Inquisition _has_ a leader!" Varric protested, gesturing tersely at Ahnnie.

"But she was _not_ the best choice!"

Ahnnie flinched as though struck, and her arms fell back limply. Time seemed to hold still in that moment, the words echoing over and over again in her mind. She only realized she was staring dumbfounded at Cassandra when the Seeker tore herself away from the girl's widened eyes.

"Hawke would have been at the Conclave," Cassandra went on. "If _anyone_ could have saved the Most Holy..."

"I was protecting my friend," Varric argued.

"You are a liar; a snake," she hissed. "Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, you kept him secret."

Varric held out his arms in exasperation. "He's with us now! We're on the same side!"

"We all know whose side you're on, _Varric,_ " Cassandra spat. "And it will never be the Inquisition's."

Ahnnie shook herself back to reality, remembering that she had a situation to diffuse. "Please! Cassandra, I know you're upset...but attacking him now won't help anything."

"Ha! Exactly!" Varric chimed triumphantly.

"But also, Varric..." She turned to the dwarf. "If there's anything else useful that you know, you shouldn't keep it from us."

The smugness wavered from his face the moment he caught onto the look in her eyes. "I understand," he sighed.

As the tension subsided, a fragile quiet overcame the loft. Cassandra turned away from Ahnnie yet again and plopped down on an old stool by a window; Varric paced about his side of the loft, muttering lowly to himself. In between them, Ahnnie stood rooted to the same spot, looking at each of her companions in turn and wondering where she went wrong.

An exhausted sigh escaped the Seeker, breaking the silence. "I must not think of what could have been," she murmured. "We have so much at stake. Go, Varric. Just...go."

Varric perked up at the mention of his name and turned to leave. He nodded for Ahnnie to follow, and she would have loved to, but another look at Cassandra's forlorn back led her to refuse his invitation with a sad shake of her head. He shrugged and headed for the stairs, but paused briefly on the landing. "You know what I think?" he suddenly asked. "If Hawke had been at the Temple, he'd be dead too." His face hardened. " _You people_ have done enough to him."

"Varric," Ahnnie gasped, but the dwarf ignored her and was down the stairs before she could say anything else. She sighed and backed away from the landing. "I'm sure he didn't mean it..."

"I...believed him," Cassandra began. "He spun his story for me, and I swallowed it. If I'd _just_ explained what was at stake...if I'd just made him understand..." She swallowed. "But I didn't, didn't I? I didn't explain why we needed Hawke...I am such a fool."

Ahnnie found another old stool and carried it over to Cassandra. She sat down on it across from the woman and folded her hands in her lap. "But what if you _didn't_ believe him?" she challenged. "What if you'd tracked Hawke down instead? What would have happened?"

Cassandra finally turned to look at the girl and shook her head. "This is...you knew nothing of this until recently, didn't you? I'm sorry...I didn't mean..."

"Well?" Ahnnie tilted her head questioningly.

Cassandra's face twisted in conflict. "Honestly, Hawke might not even have agreed to become Inquisitor," she admitted at last. "He supported the mage rebellion, after all. He wouldn't have trusted me for a second. But this isn't about Hawke, or even Varric. Not truly." She ran a hand through her short hair and shook her head. "I should have been more careful. I should have been smarter – I don't deserve to be here."

Ahnnie drummed her fingers against her knee in thought. "Well...neither do I. And I don't mean that sarcastically," she quickly added. "I mean...have you _seen_ our Inquisition? We're all fools, here, Cassandra. Fools who think they can save Thedas with a moldy old book and a crumbling fortress. Hell, you chose _me_ of all people to run it, so...what do I know?"

A strangled laugh escaped the Seeker's throat. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Ahnnie shrugged. "More at home, actually."

Cassandra chortled again and took a deep breath to steady herself. "I want you to know," she said as she exhaled, "that I have no regrets. Maybe if we'd found Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden, the Maker wouldn't have needed to send you. But He did. You're...not what I'd pictured. But if I've learned anything, it's that I know less than nothing." She rose from the stool and pat the girl warmly on the shoulder. "Go now. You've better things to do than listen to an old Seeker's ravings."

Ahnnie followed suit and tapped Cassandra's hand lightly. "Anytime, Cassandra. Anytime."

She left the building first, walking carefully down the old wooden steps, and reemerged into the sunny courtyard with a lighter feeling in her step. After asking another passerby for the direction of Varric's path, she found him brooding to himself on a large boulder near the training grounds. Ahnnie pursed her lips as she came close, taking note of the troubled expression etched on his features. "Hey," she greeted. "So, um...Cassandra's calmed down, now."

"Define 'calmed down' for me in terms of who or what she's punching right now," he said, voice quavering.

Ahnnie blinked, taken aback by the dwarf's shaken countenance. "Um...no one?"

"Really?" Varric scoffed. "That's a first."

"Well..." She pursed her lips again. "You _did_ kinda keep some secrets from us..."

"I wasn't _trying_ to keep secrets," he protested. "I told the Inquisition everything that seemed important...at the time." He shook his head. "I know how that sounds, but you gotta believe me...I didn't think Corypheus was connected to anything until he showed up at Haven. I thought he was dead. Nothing we saw at the summit made me think he'd been there."

She had a retort formed at the back of her mouth, but swallowed it down after some thought. _I suppose he's right..._ Varric had gone through too much with them by now to have done any of it on purpose. Whatever he _did_ purposefully keep secret, it was all to abide by Hawke's wishes.

"I'm sorry," Ahnnie apologized at last. "That makes more sense. I thought you meant to keep quiet at first, but I was too focused on being upset to really think about what you'd experienced..."

"Ah, that's..." Varric trailed off and waved it away. "I keep hoping, you know, that none of this is real. Maybe it's all some bullshit from the Fade, and it'll just disappear if I close my eyes."

"Same," Ahnnie murmured.

"Probably sucks the most for you," he remarked. "Perfectly wonderful and peaceful life, then _boom_ ; stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of monsters and Chantry clerics wanting to kill you."

"That's..."

Varric frowned. "Come to think of it, what _was_ your life like, specifically? I mean, I know about Earth and how it's different from Thedas, but what were _you_ like?"

She was speechless for several seconds, gesturing and shrugging in a futile effort to find the words. "Well...I was...me? Life before was pretty plain, really."

"But you've changed. _This_ has all changed you," he said, gesturing at their surroundings. "And for better or for worse?"

"Oh...like...do I wish it never happened?" Ahnnie shrugged again. "I don't...know. What about you?"

He let out a dry cackle. "Ah, you know me. If I could've rewritten a few things, I would've. And I'd make it pretty exciting, too. Though I suppose you could say I've had my fair share of excitement already."

Ahnnie couldn't help but crack a smile. "From what I've heard, it's practically straight out of an adventure novel. I wonder how much of it is true and how much is just embellishment?"

They both shared a much needed laugh at that. It was refreshing to be in good spirits again, just like old times. "Cassandra probably regrets how things went back there," she remarked after her last chuckle. "You should go talk to her."

Varric smiled sympathetically at her as he slid off the boulder. "I appreciate your trying to keep the peace, kiddo, but things between me and the Seeker are as good as they'll get." Then he paused, rough eyes softening with remorse. "And...I know I need to do better. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Varric," Ahnnie reassured him. "I do, too."

* * *

 **A/N:** Added to the Asian explanation in Chapter 2 for accuracy & better flow. Also made Ahnnie ask Varric why he was a prisoner in Chapter 4; I left that unaddressed whereas Ahnnie would have said something. Edited her horseback lessons to start in a round pen before hitting the trails, as it is not a good idea to do so otherwise. Finally, fixed her dialogue with Cole in Chapt 29 cuz I thought she sounded too mean to him.

Why Ahnnie considers her name to start with 'A' rather than 'D' – Diễm is actually her middle name, and in Vietnamese, middle & first names are often linked so it's not unusual for someone to introduce themselves with both but then be addressed after the fact by the first one. While her name's arrangement in English should be Anh Diễm, she keeps the original because the reverse sounds awkward. Fun fact: girls who have 'Anh' as their first name tend to use both names all the time because calling them by 'Anh' alone sounds too much like the pronoun for older brother-aged male.

To guest _papaRazzi_ \- Thanks! I'm glad to hear that! I checked out the songs you mentioned and they're very good. The one by Evanescence especially is very...on point for Ahnnie and Cole. The "home" line is a total Ahnnie thing considering the plot, and when the guy says "don't let me die here" he sounds eerily a lot like Cole. Glad you enjoyed the fic!

 _Hypermuffins_ \- aaaah I got reviewed by Hypermuffins! I've seen your Inquisitor/Cole fanfic and am **really** flattered you took the time to review! Hopefully mine doesn't disappoint, seeing as it's going to be a very _veeeeerrrryyy_ slow burn!


	36. Chapter 33

The late spring warmth carried on the gentle wind, whisking merrily through the tangled manes and tails of the horses assembled by the gates. As they stomped impatiently at the flies encircling their feet, the rider of the head steed swiveled in his saddle to address a tall and proud Templar standing by his flank.

"I will be gone awhile with the Inquisitor," said he. "I trust you to oversee the troops in my absence, Knight-Commander Derlin."

"You have my word, Commander Cullen," Derlin Barris affirmed with a reverent bow of his head. "You shall find Skyhold in the same order as you left it."

A friendly pat graced the new Knight-Commander's shoulder and the two men shared a smile of camaraderie. Those were the only formalities exchanged before Derlin stepped back to watch the party leave.

Cullen spurred his horse for the bridge and the rest followed obediently. As they clip-clopped away from the walls of the stately fortress, Ahnnie stole a look back at the battlements to find what appeared to be Cassandra's profile watching their departure. She turned back around in her saddle and spied Varric's stout frame on his pony a little ways ahead, a nostalgic sadness overcoming her as she thought of the original quartet being incomplete this time around.

"They will make up," Solas assured her when he saw her troubled gaze. "Simply give it time, da'len."

"I guess," she murmured, and returned her focus on their journey to Crestwood.

* * *

"Refreshing, isn't it?" Evelyn breathed in and out. "The vast mountains around us, the endless blue sky above..."

Ahnnie snorted. "You're just glad to be out and about, aren't you?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes playfully. "As if you can't say the same?"

They shared a laugh and spurred their horses on to catch up with the others. The weather was certainly agreeing with them, and was the most pleasant Ahnnie had ever seen this side of the Frostbacks. She thought at first that it'd be difficult getting acclimated to traveling through the mountains again, but was soon reminded that the harrowing winter and this genial spring were as different as fire and water. Besides which, she got to travel with _Evelyn_ ; what more could she want out of this fine day?

They dashed past the Iron Bull's nuggalope plodding good-naturedly along the path and slowed back to a walk as they came within a horse's breadth of Dorian's finicky palomino. But Evelyn's mount strayed a hair too close to the Tevinter mage's steed, and his horse's rear leg kicked out a split second later.

Her horse jerked its head and snorted irritably as it veered away from the leg. Dorian heard the commotion and gave the young women behind him warning glances. "I shouldn't have to remind you that it's a bad idea to get close to my rear."

"Not our fault you got stuck with the sourpuss," Ahnnie teased, urging her horse's flank closer to Evelyn's until they were practically stirrup to stirrup. "And it wasn't even _that_ close." The two exchanged knowing smirks.

"Ha- _ha_ ," Dorian scoffed flatly, before being yanked back to attention as the palomino got sidetracked by a clump of long grass. "Not again!" he lamented. After successfully regaining the horse's head, he let out a huff of indignation and shook his own. Noticing the giggles coming from behind him, his smile turned wry. "Oh yes, let's all make fun of the one with the stubborn nag, never mind the hulking _nuggalope_ right before us!"

"You leave Nuggy out of this!" Bull cried.

Evelyn's eyes widened in surprise. "'Nuggy'? How...cute!" she gushed amusedly.

"Who'd have thought a guy like Tiny could get so attached?" Varric wondered aloud.

"Huh? Tiny?" Ahnnie asked.

Bull rolled his eyes. "It's a nickname. Makes my naming conventions sound like flattery in comparison."

"Now, now," Dorian adomished, "just because _you_ ended up with 'Tiny'..."

"Oh yeah, _Sparkler_?" Bull shot back with a smirk. "But if it were up to me, I would've gone for Twinkle Toes."

Dorian sniffed. "At least it's not 'Tiny'," he mumbled in mock annoyance. "Or Curly." It took a while for the implication to set in, but it became obvious nonetheless when Dorian continued holding his gaze towards Commander Cullen's back. Surprisingly, the Commander acknowledged this with a noncommittal grunt.

Ahnnie looked about her companions as if seeing them for the first time. "Does _everyone_ have a nickname?"

"About so," Varric confirmed. He eyed Solas pointedly and elbowed the elf in the arm. "Eh, Chuckles?"

Solas gave him a thin-lipped smile and barely glanced at the others as he answered, "Yes. Truly amazing."

Evelyn just about fell out of her saddle with laughter. Ahnnie couldn't help but join along, unfortunately for Solas. _I mean, 'Chuckles'? That's the last thing I would have thought of!_

"Do I get to be part of the club?" Evelyn asked, wiping a tear from her eye. "What's my nickname?"

Varric rubbed his chin in thought. "You know, I've been thinking about that since we left Skyhold. Never saw you much, but it always stood out to me how you get dimples when you smile. So...Dimples."

"Mm, Dimples! I do like the sound of that," Evelyn mused.

"Glad to hear it," Varric said with a little head bow.

Ahnnie gripped her reins in an almost childish anticipation. "And me? Do I get a nickname? Or did I already have one?"

At this, Varric seemed to fall short. "In...quisitor?" he suggested weakly.

"But that's my title..."

He shrugged. "Your name already sounds like a nickname, so..."

"Because it is one?"

"Well, there you go."

"But you didn't think of it," she pouted. Varric only gave her another uncertain shrug in return, which rather disappointed her.

"Wait a second," he suddenly said. His eyes swept over the group and looked left and right. "Where's Kid?"

 _Hey! Isn't that what he used to call me?_ Or at least, the halved variant of it. It didn't take her long to connect the dots, though. "Cole? What..." She let out a gasp when she saw how far their last straggler was. "Oh! Cole!"

She pulled her horse back and rushed down their previous line of travel to rescue their overlooked party member. His mare was disagreeing with him by throwing her head every few steps; Ahnnie advised him to loosen the rein, and helped bring him back into the fold with gentle coaxing to his mount and some riding tips to him.

"First time on horseback?" she asked sympathetically.

"Not really," he confessed. "I just don't do it much."

"Don't worry," she smiled. "That's a part of why they don't listen; they can sense uncertainty. Just feel confident with them and they'll feel confident with you."

Evelyn cocked a brow at their exchange. "Interesting," she remarked. "I'd never known that mare to be a nuisance, even to beginners."

Ahnnie shrugged. "Well...everyone rides differently. Perhaps she just needs to get more used to Cole."

The Trevelyan nodded away in thought. "Of course," she agreed airily, but Ahnnie could still sense the distrust emanating from the look in her eyes. The previous conversation appeared to have stagnated the moment she went to retrieve Cole, so it wasn't just Evelyn who felt the same.

 _I'll be damned if Cole can't feel it as well,_ Ahnnie thought with a sigh.

That was perhaps the only thing that dampened the cheer of the journey for her. When she originally decided to bring the young man along, Cullen and Evelyn were the most vocal in their disapproval. Dorian appeared disturbed when he learned of Cole's mysterious origins, while the Iron Bull was oddly reserved about the matter; though with his Chargers away salvaging the ruins of Haven, he probably saw no reason to give any loud declaration of opinion. Ahnnie could only surmise that it ran in the same direction as the others, though, given what she knew of the Qun.

Only Solas and Varric received Cole cordially, for which Ahnnie was grateful. She was positive Cole could prove himself out in the field and felt more confident in her belief with the backing of two of her closest companions.

 _But in the meantime, it wouldn't hurt for him to improve impressions._ She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt every time the others looked askance at him.

"How do you think I can do that?" Cole asked her, pensive.

It surprised her that they hadn't yet had this talk; the reasons for one were glaringly obvious, after all. But later was better than never. "Well...appearance is a start," she began. "Straighten your posture, for one. People find that confident. I remember when I had to correct mine..." Thinking back to Corporal Hargrave's first lessons made her involuntarily wince. "It's not an easy habit to break, but try relaxing your shoulders and puffing out your chest more. And then maybe, if you kept your hair out of your eyes..." She pondered this advice as she considered how he could make his eyes less sullen. "Nope, let's start with the hair. The eyes will follow."

Cole swiped a hand at his bangs, pushing them to one side. Either because it was a new look or wasn't particularly tasteful, Ahnnie shook her head at the change. "No, that's...not quite right..." She pursed her lips in thought before reaching for his hat. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind...but maybe if you hid less beneath this hat..."

She lifted it off to unveil a scraggly blonde nest in dire need of brushing. She mimicked the act of pushing back her hair and Cole repeated it tentatively, running his calloused fingers to the back of his head until the bangs no longer framed his face. When he let go, several strands re-released themselves about his forehead, but his face was otherwise unobstructed. And as Ahnnie saw it for the first time in full clarity, she felt more satisfied with the result.

"There we go," she smiled. "Much better."

Cole winced as a dapple of sunlight hit his eyes. "It's not very comfortable, but if you like it better..."

As their party crested round a bend by a pine tree, the sun fell more abundantly on Cole's features, softening the harshness of his complexion and crowning his head in a halo of golden light. Ahnnie did not realize she was staring until she remembered he was awaiting her response. "Oh, yeah," she murmured, suddenly interested in the pommel of her saddle. "Only if you want to, though. Being true to yourself is what matters most." Then she realized she was still hanging onto his hat and returned it with an embarrassed laugh. "Oops...here you go."

He replaced it on his head with a reassuring smile. "It's all right. I know you want to help."

And she supposed that she had, in a way, for he adjusted the hat carefully so as not to disturb his new hairstyle.

* * *

Cool water slid down Eveyln's throat as she took a much-needed swig from her waterskin, her lips releasing the mouthpiece several gulps later with a sigh of satisfaction. She wiped the stray droplets from her chin and screwed the cork back on, noting the weight of the swishing inside as she did so; _not so bad. S_ _hould last me until we make camp for the night._

"Out of water, Lady Evelyn?" Commander Cullen's voice inquired, cutting through her thoughts. "I'll go fetch some more for you."

She looked up to find him approaching, having just dismounted from his horse as well. "How kind of you, Commander," she replied with a smile. "It's little more than half full, but I can fill it for myself later."

"Dorian found a spring just now. It's not but a stone's throw away," he insisted. "I'm going to refill mine anyways."

Evelyn tilted her head inquisitively. "Well...can't turn that down, now can we?" She handed him the waterskin. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Cullen nodded, though judging by his stoic mask, it was difficult to tell whether or not it was indeed a pleasure.

 _Military men,_ Evelyn thought with a shake of her head. Beyond the little display of emotion before they left Skyhold, the Commander had been stony and authoritative in his conduct. It thus amazed her that a goofball like Maxwell had been able to join the Templar ranks; though she supposed if he hadn't, Father would have put him to far more boring use than he was accustomed to. _He never did like the thought of becoming a 'Chantry lackey'._

Evelyn stretched her arms and paced about to shake off some saddle rigidity, twirling her ankles every few steps or so. She considered going over to make some conversation with Ahnnie, but the girl was occupied in a pleasant one herself with Solas and Cole. _Ugh, n_ _ot him again..._ While Evelyn had no qualms about the hedge mage, unconventional though he was, Cole simply rubbed her the wrong way. A spirit that wasn't a spirit, yet a human that wasn't human? It bothered her more than a little that Ahnnie was getting so familiar with him.

There probably wasn't much time for small talk, anyway. The Commander came back, filled waterskins in hand, and after returning hers he barked for their group to remount in fifteen minutes. "I apologize for the short break time," he then said to her. "If you need a few more minutes, just let me know."

Evelyn blinked. "Ah, no. I'm fine," she assured him. "We've only been riding for half a day."

"If you're certain."

"I am."

"Very well; just let me know if the road gets rough later on, and we'll stop for another break. These paths can get quite rocky."

A fuming warmth rose to her cheeks as Evelyn listened to him speak. _I don't see him asking any of the others the same thing. Not even Ahnnie, and she's the most inexperienced of us all._ _Just how delicate does he think I am?_ The waterskin became an uncomfortable weight on her belt as the implication set in. She'd assumed he understood by now that she wasn't expecting differential treatment based on birth; then again, they'd only met several times since that talk on the Magister's judgement day. Perhaps it was time to change that.

"You know, Commander," she began, "I didn't ask to come along if I didn't expect to face some hardships. You needn't worry about my...delicate sensibilities, for lack of a better word."

He raised an eyebrow. "All right."

"And I know what you're thinking," she continued. "A noble who's led a cloistered life in the Ostwick Circle; must have unusually high expectations about adventuring, no? But I know this is no romanticized adventure, trust me. And I can pull my own weight in a group..."

She'd expected him to show some form of acknowledgement towards her words; instead, his face was still the same blank canvas as it had been all day. She found her resolve faltering beneath such indifference, much to her humiliation. "In short," she huffed, "I hope you understand that I'm not here to dilly-dally. I expect – that is...I _would like_ to be taken as seriously as the rest."

Cullen nodded. "Of course. My apologies, Lady Evelyn."

 _He apologized...!_ Great. Now she felt bad. "I wasn't looking for apologies," she hastily clarified. "I was just hoping to make my wishes clear."

"And I've heard them," he affirmed. "Rest assured." But though his tone held no innuendo, Evelyn thought she could see the corner of his mouth curving up ever-so-lightly as he turned away to tend to his horse.

 _The...the nerve of him! The gall!_ Never had any interaction left her so flabbergasted. Or at least, not outside her older brothers. The discomfort was as unwelcome as a needle in the saddle. She swallowed it down as best as she could, but as she rummaged through her saddlebags to double check the contents, she couldn't help replaying the scene over and over again in her mind.

Dorian, who'd been a quiet bystander not more than several yards away, looked curiously from the retreating Commander to Evelyn. "Too chivalrous for your taste?" he asked as he came close, and took a swig from his own newly filled skin.

"Quite," she replied. She closed the saddlebags and huffed. "I'm much too upset by this for my own good."

Dorian laughed. "I take it he's not handsome enough to let it slide? Or perhaps, too handsome?"

Evelyn gave him a sidelong glance and smirked. "You're not so bad yourself," she remarked, noting the gleam of his freshly washed face. "Now if only the Commander had your wit to match."

"Oh, of course! I'm the handsomest, most wittiest devil you'll find for miles around," he quipped with a wink and swept a hand over his hair, the ends of which sparkled with droplets of spring water. "Sometimes a little _too_ much for my own good...but I digress." He returned his hand to his side with a flourish. "Hmm. Lady Evelyn Trevelyan of...Ostwick, is it?"

Evelyn nodded. "And you are Dorian...?"

"Pavus," he supplied. "Not-so-recently of Minrathous."

She frowned a moment, and then raised her brows. "Color me surprised! Never did I expect to meet a distant relative from Tevinter."

Dorian laughed. "I was wondering if you'd recognize the name! Good memory."

"Same to you; noble families are so tangled, it's a miracle we can still pick apart who's who."

He shook his head. "Maker, I hated that part of my education the most."

"Oh goodness, so did I."

"The long hours, reciting list after list..."

"Stop it, I can only get so traumatized!"

They shared a laugh. "This reminds me," Evelyn said when they were done, "I'd actually heard of you before, just not your family name...yes, the mustached Tevinter mage who helped defeat Magister Alexius. Funny and sarcastic you were, even in the face of danger."

"And to whom do I owe such a glowing review?" Dorian asked, intrigued.

Evelyn nodded in Ahnnie's direction. "And as one mage to another, I must say, it was awfully impressive of you to have undone that time spell under such constraints. I can't imagine how it was even conceived of in the first place, much less reversed."

"Ah, well...Tevinter's luck," he chuckled. "How else can we accomplish our diabolical schemes?"

"But, truly, to achieve such a spell...the Magister must have bent the Fade itself to make it work."

"Nothing a nation of half-crazed blood mages can't achieve."

She couldn't help but chortle at that. "Was it difficult, though? To join the Inquisition, that is. You'd have thought I'd sent Andraste to her pyre from the letters my father sent; I can't imagine your family being overjoyed at the news."

All of a sudden, Dorian's pleasant face turned into a grimace. "Yes, about that...I haven't been in good standing with them for quite some time. So it wasn't difficult to join, per se, but...let's just say I've only been able to make inferences as to their reactions."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Evelyn sighed. "Sometimes there's just no pleasing them."

"Indeed," Dorian agreed. "It's almost always disownment or petty, drawn-out badgering, you know; there simply is no winning."

"How very true. But we're here now, aren't we?" Evelyn felt a crick in her neck and rolled her head to alleviate it. She saw Varric cleaning out his pony's hooves as her head turned and remembered there were more important things to tend to than small talk. "Do you need any help with your feisty mount?" she then asked. "Might as well make the most of the time we have left to get ready."

"Oh, you know a way to make it less stubborn?"

"No," Evelyn chuckled, "but I can swap horses with you. Contrary to what the Commander might believe, I can take a rocky road or two."

"You would? Splendid!" He clapped her jovially on the back as they walked over to the palomino. "I knew I'd find a kindred spirit in you."

"Well, we all need one, don't we?"

* * *

"Happy birthday to me...I'm one-hundred and three...I smell like a monkey..."

 _And I just forgot the rest,_ Ahnnie thought with a bit of a sigh.

She rolled from her back onto her stomach to hug the cloak she used as a pillow, and stared contemplatively into the fire. It was a tranquil night, illuminated by the stars and peppered with the sounds of small talk and crackling firewood. The Iron Bull was cracking some sort of joke to Varric, Dorian and Evelyn were musing over things they held in common, while Cullen kept to himself and Solas had decided to retire early so as to take on the next watch.

"No you don't."

Ahnnie looked up to find Cole sitting next to her bedroll. "It's just a song," she chuckled. "I'm not a hundred and three, either."

"But it is your birthday?"

She traced a little pattern into the dirt. "Yeah...or at least, I _think_ it's my birthday. Justinian is the Thedosian name of my birth month, but judging by the difference in months here, I can't tell if it'd still be Justinian, or August?"

"Hmm."

Bull suddenly guffawed at something, drowning out the volume of the campfire for a moment. When his laughter died down, Ahnnie sighed again and propped her head in her palms. "Guess you don't know your own birthday? Or how old you are?"

Cole grew thoughtful for a moment, before shaking his head. "No, I don't...I don't know."

 _Well, a birthday means he would've been born at some point, so I guess that makes sense..._ It never occurred to her that Cole could be decades, perhaps even centuries, older than her until now. "You look as old as me," she offered, "give or take a few years." He took the observation with a shrug and continued staring into the fire. She gave up the point and rolled onto her back to face the stars.

"It's slippery. One moment it feels like forever; another, and it's gone. Rushing, slowing, in one place then suddenly elsewhere...stealing up from behind like a thief, yet standing straight ahead at the same time..."

"Or you could just say, 'Time is weird'," she suggested amusedly. Her eyes followed a cluster of stars, trying to see if they could trace a constellation. She found four that connected into a vertical trapezoid and tilted her head to study the ones below them. "Aha! Voyager!" she exclaimed, reveling in the satisfaction of having found the ship-shaped constellation. She was aware of a proper Ancient Tevene name, but it was a tad too complicated to pronounce. "Enough on me, though..." She rolled onto her side. "Tell me about you...about your friends. What were they like?"

He looked at her a moment before turning away again. "Why do you always want to know about me?"

The question took her aback. "B-because you're...interesting?" She shook her head before she could stutter something more embarrassing. "Sorry, is it...too much?"

It took him a while to answer, which made her feel even worse. "It's like Rhys."

"Rhys?" she echoed.

"My friend." He fiddled with his fingers as his eyes took on that distant look she'd seen back at Skyhold. "Some of the mages at the Spire wanted to die. Too sad, too scared...too much. I didn't know what I was...a ghost, I thought. Fading in the Fade. When I came to them, they could see me. I used a knife to set them free. When Rhys found out, he made me stop, made me understand."

Ahnnie's inquisitive gaze grew troubled as the implication set in. "You...killed the mages?"

"There were other ways to help," Cole put in. "I didn't know."

He was no stranger to killing or combat, that was for certain. But this seemed different than that. This seemed as if he had put the knife to the mages in their most vulnerable moments... _he_ killed _them to help them..._ but perhaps it was because he didn't know any better...?

"I knew," he interrupted her. "I just thought I had to. They were hurting, helpless, haunted...it was all I could do." He shook his head. "It was wrong. _I_ was wrong. If I start again, you or Cassandra or Cullen need to kill me."

Ahnnie gasped and flapped her mouth open and closed in several attempts to answer. "I-I'm sure we don't need to do that," she blurted at last, the memory of fighting him in Redcliffe intrusively resurfacing. "Rhys...you were talking about Rhys?"

"He was a mage," Cole answered, and she thanked the Maker when his eyes grew distant again. "He saw me when most couldn't, and he...remembered. He helped me, and I watched over him. I worried Evangeline would hurt him."

Somewhere along the way, he had pulled his bedroll over and laid down on his stomach as he recounted the details. Like mischievous children whispering secrets, they lay before the fire to hear the tale given in hushed tones. Cryptic though his words could be, Ahnnie gathered that Rhys and Evangeline (an unlikely duo at that, mage and templar) adventured with Cole after some trouble in the Spire to the Adamant Fortress in the Western Approach. For what reason, Cole didn't divulge, but they found demons there and saved Cole from 'a cupboard on the bad day'. Their rapport fell apart, however, when Lord Seeker Lambert told him what he was. Lambert had been upset at what they had found in Adamant and was determined to stop them...even Rhys didn't accept him after that...

"Lambert killed so many, he didn't care...cold, corrupt. So I came and killed him."

And that was that. A tale that began with blood and ended with blood. Ahnnie looked from his haunted eyes to the flickering fire again, not knowing what to say. "I'm so sorry," she murmured at last. "But you're with us now, so..." She placed a comforting hand on his elbow and smiled. "Maybe if we see Rhys and Evangeline again, we could explain? Where do you think they'd be?"

"They should have been with the rebels," Cole confessed, "but maybe they ran away together instead. Neither of them liked killing."

"Perhaps I could ask Leliana to find them–"

"No," he almost snapped. "If they are alive and safe, they should stay away. Let them forget."

Ahnnie's hand slipped away as she mumbled an apology. But it felt most unfair, especially since Cole still remembered them fondly, almost wistfully. Perhaps she could do some digging on her own later...at the moment, something clicked in her memory after running the story over for a second time in her head. "Is the Spire in Orlais?"

"Yes, Val Royeaux."

"And Rhys was a Senior Enchanter?"

"I think so..."

"I'm reading his book!" She turned excitedly towards Cole. "You can read, right? I could give it to you. It's about Fade denizens, but knowing that it's from him might help you feel closer." Then she remembered one important thing. "It's back at Skyhold, so I guess you'll have to wait...unless..." She frowned. "We could go through the Fade to take a peek at what I've read?"

"You want to travel there, like you do with Solas," Cole surmised.

"Yeah...and you could show me what Rhys and Evangeline look like," Ahnnie suggested hopefully.

" _No_ ," Solas loudly grumbled from his bedroll, surprising them both. "Another word of that, da'len, and I'll slip a potion in your food that'll give you insomnia for a week. Don't even think about trying after I'm 'asleep', either," he added for good measure, his groggy voice intimidating regardless of fatigue.

Ahnnie and Cole exchanged meek glances before she burst out in suppressed giggles. "Sorry, hahren! I promise I won't. Now...don't let me get in the way of your rest; I know how important sleep is at your age..."

She narrowly dodged the incoming pinecone and rolled about her bedroll with laughter. Cole chuckled too and remarked to her, "We'd best listen to what he says. He thinks you're not fit enough to enter the Fade without someone stronger."

"Okay," she wheezed, "but what about you?"

"I can go, but I'm a spirit. I know what to do. You're human and you don't know, not quite yet, anyway."

Ahnnie sighed and gently flipped herself onto her back. "Then I'll just dream the normal way for now. The stars are nice tonight; maybe I can make it to another constellation before I tucker out..." She yawned. "I should shut up before I get carried away...night, Cole."

"Good night," he returned, and snuggled into the roll. He watched her eyes awhile as they searched amongst the stars, curious and determined yet sabotaged by sleepy lids, and eventually, without knowing, he gave in to his own.

* * *

The weather turned sour when they finally reached Crestwood. It was hastily growing dark and Ahnnie was grateful for the proximity of their destination, but a look at the stormy lake nearby dampened her hopes of a relaxing evening after a dusty week of travel.

"A rift in the lake?" Cullen exclaimed after seeing the sickly green lights boiling on the water. "Looks like we'll be having trouble..."

When they made it to their camp, the reports were even worse. "We've got undead on our hands," the Commander told them grimly.

" _Undead_!?" Ahnnie screamed. Cullen frowned at her, so she resumed, quieter, "Undead? As in, _zombies_?"

"I'm not familiar with that term, but after the rift appeared corpses started walking out of the lake."

"So zombies," she concluded unhappily.

"Wasn't Crestwood the site of a flood during the Fifth Blight?" Evelyn asked with a tilt of her head. "The appearance of a rift may have allowed demons access to the bodies..."

"It never is a good idea to open the Fade in a place of death," Solas put in thoughtfully.

"At any rate, we'll have to go through them if we want to reach the caves where Sir Hawke's informant is hiding," Cullen continued. "That would mean getting to the rift in the lake; cut the disturbance at its source, and we're free to move."

"Nifty plan," Varric commented. "Let's just put on our swimsuits and go for a nice dive, eh? Can't be _that_ deep."

"I heard you and the scout discussing a keep," Dorian interjected. "I saw it on our way here and it's quite close to the lake, with a dam, no less. Perhaps someone there knows an inkling of what to do?"

"Caer Bronach was overrun by bandits during the chaos after the rift appeared," Cullen sighed. "Otherwise, I'd have first sent to the keep for help. We could conduct an assault to take it back, but let's not jump to conclusions yet. Our first objective is the rift. Dorian and Evelyn, go with the Iron Bull and Inquisitor to the village below and see if you can find any answers; report back your findings, and if need be, we'll move out tonight."

Ahnnie watched with a sinking heart as the other three dispersed to prepare for the drudging walk down the hill to the village. But beyond that was a nagging question borne from the shock of the first news: "Have any of the undead, um...approached the camp? Just in case we don't go out tonight and sleep here instead," she hastily added.

"An occasional shambler here and there," Cullen reported nonchalantly. "Nothing to worry about. Most of them head for the village."

She waited until she had exited the tent to groan and pull her face into her hands... _Great. Just great._

* * *

" _Zom-bee._ Such a funny word!"

"Ugh, stop it, Dorian...it's not funny to me..."

"Is it the word for undead in your language, boss?" Bull asked curiously.

"Not...really." Ahnnie flicked more rainwater off her hood. "It's a borrowed term from another culture."

"It sounds like something Max would have babbled as a toddler," Evelyn remarked. "Makes the thought of undead seem less gruesome to me."

Ahnnie gripped her glaive uncomfortably and scanned the dark countryside around them with suspicious eyes. "Okay, but they can't turn you into a zombie by biting you, right? Or eat you alive?"

She could tell the mages were struggling to suppress their amusement, as their shivering shoulders indicated. "You can't 'turn' undead by being bitten," Evelyn clarified. "But an undead's disposition is very much dependent on what demon possesses it. So yes, they could eat you alive, if they're possessed by hunger demons–"

"Yes, that's enough, thanks," Ahnnie hastily mumbled.

They could just make out the outline of a wooden gate in the rainy gloom after what felt like an eternity of walking. Glowing orange spots dotted the slick ground ahead, prefaced by a rancid salty old smell like rotten smoked meat. She pulled up the collar of her cowl to her nose and dry heaved into the cloth, the other hand holding out her glaive defensively in case the cause of those smells should come uncomfortably close.

The village guards challenged them defensively when they came to the fringe of the carnage. Shriveled corpses lay before them like scattered confetti, some burning, all contorted in grotesque positions. Impossibly enough, a few of them held rusty blades in their putrefied grips. Ahnnie's hold on her own weapon tightened at the sight, and then it happened.

One of them grabbed her by the ankle.

She shot up like a firecracker, screaming bloody murder as she stomped and stomped to get it off. The thing was strong, and even worse, it moaned with every slap of its decayed body onto the muddy ground. Its other hand clawed into the dirt to pull the rest of itself closer, but it had barely inched a centimeter when the Iron Bull slammed it away with his hammer like a bat.

"Boss!" he yelled when she didn't stop her wild jumping. "It's gone!"

"It's still on me," she shuddered, and lifted up her boot to show him the decapitated forearm attached to her ankle. Then she screamed again.

The guards looked at each other, and then one of them came up with their sword raised. "Hold still," he instructed Ahnnie, and with a swift slash the limb was split between the thumb and index. It hit the ground with a thick squelch and twitched lightly before going still.

She sank into Evelyn's arms heaving and sobbing. The guard sheathed his sword and looked about their party curiously, wary of the Iron Bull in particular. "What brings you to our village?" he demanded of them, albeit with less of an edge than before.

"Inquisition business," Dorian answered, fingering the symbol on his cloak clasp. "We're here for the rift on the lake."

"Thank the Maker!" The other guard rushed up to his colleague at this and hastily ushered them past the corpses and into the gates. "The mayor could use your assistance; his house is the largest, up on that hill. It's been hell these past few weeks!"

"The corpses are coming from where Old Crestwood used to be," the other guard remarked dourly. "Amount of people we lost back during the Blight, I'm not surprised."

"If you're here, we can finally get this over with. Did the Inquisitor come?"

Dorian smiled and indicated the disconsolate girl behind him with a sidelong glance.

"Oh..."

As they ventured into the village, the distant groans of more undead shambling towards the gate echoed from the darkness, and the guards summarily resumed their positions. The village before them was empty, with every visible entryway on each house boarded up or locked. An occasional guard would stumble across them, but when shown their clasps, would direct them closer to the mayor's house. Only once did there seem to be a hint of civilian life, and that was when a little eye peered at them through the peephole of a boarded window before blinking away into nothing.

They climbed the staircase up the hill and deposited themselves in front of a wooden door. Bull raised a fist and knocked on it three times, then bellowed, "Inquisition!"

The door opened a crack and a mousy middle-aged man scrutinized them carefully, finally resting on Ahnnie. With a start, she stammered, "M-mayor of Crestwood?"

"Inquisitor?" he returned. When she showed him her left palm, he opened the door a bit wider and beckoned them inside. "I apologize for the lack of manners; Mayor Dedrick of Crestwood Village. At your service, despite...everything." When they'd all entered, he shut the door and bolted it several times. "Is there anything I can offer you?" he asked as he turned to them. "Some hot food, or drink?"

"We're fine," Ahnnie assured him as firmly as she could. Her voice still trembled from the shock. "We're only stopping a bit to speak with you."

"Ah," he nodded. With a nervous lick of his lips, he asked next, "Are you...here to stop the undead?"

She wondered if he noticed the little gulp that went down her throat. "Yes. We are."

"The Inquisitor wishes to seal the nearby Fade rift to stop the undead from plaguing you," Evelyn volunteered to explain after noticing her unease. "Do you know of a way to get to it?"

A flash of recognition passed through Dedrick's eyes. "The light on the lake? It's coming from the caves below Old Crestwood. Darkspawn flooded it ten years ago during the Blight, you see. It wiped out the village, killing the refugees we took in..."

"We're aware of the history," Evelyn assured him.

"As for reaching it..." Dedrick gave a sad heave of his shoulders. "It's not possible. The light is too far out, over one of the deepest parts of the water. Worse, the caves there are completely submerged."

Dorian exchanged a glance with Evelyn, to which she responded with a resigned shrug. "Well then, I suppose that leaves us the option of draining the lake," the Tevinter mage decided.

Dedrick jolted as though poked by a cattle prod. "Drain the – there must be some other way!"

"There's not," Bull groused, and the startled mayor appeared even more startled when he seemed to take notice of his largest house guest for the first time. "There's really not. Not unless you're fine with having undead show up at your doorsteps for the next ten years."

"You'd have to evict the bandits in the old fort to use the dam," Dedrick pointed out. "I can't ask you to risk your life!"

"We came prepared," Bull chuckled. "The Commander's got a small troop ready to move out nearby. All we gotta do is send the word."

Mayor Dedrick's eyes flickered over each of them in a silent plea to persuade them otherwise. Ahnnie felt bad, and felt even guiltier when his eyes begged her last, but all she could do was smile comfortingly. "It's the only way to reach the rift."

He looked as though he'd been sucker punched in the stomach, but eventually steeled himself back into regaining composure. "I..." He coughed. "I suppose it must come to this." He reached into his collar and pulled off a chain from around his neck, then handed it to her. "This key unlocks the gate to the dam controls past the fort. Again, you should find the rift in the caves beneath the old village. But, Inquisitor," he hurriedly added, "I would not linger there."

She accepted the key and wrapped the chain around her own neck with a grimace. "I don't intend to."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope everyone had a happy holiday season! My cousin dressed up for Halloween as an Inquisitor we all know and love, so if you wanna check that out, please head to the fic on Ao3 and scroll to the bottom of the latest chapter!

A recap just in case:

1) Google "The Otherworlder Ao3"

2) Click the first link.

3) Click the third story, _Exodus_.

4) Go to the latest chapter (chapter 9 "Crestwood") using the Chapter Index button (or click Entire Work and scroll to that chapter), then scroll _aaalllll_ the way down until you see **=Author's Note=** ;3

Also, I am basing Rhys' stance toward Cole on what Cole says when you ask for his past. I misplaced my copy of Asunder so I can't confirm if Rhys still thought of Cole as a friend after Lambert's reveal, but what Cole says: "The last time he [Rhys] saw me, he didn't want to look at me; he saw a monster", sort of implies the opposite, at least from his perspective.


End file.
